Send All My Loving
by PhoenixPhoether
Summary: Ten years after the war, Draco unexpectedly becomes a go-between for Harry and Ginny to resume their relationship. But is it really Ginny Harry wants once he reads the poetic letters Draco has written in her name? EWE. Loosely based on Cyrano de Bergerac.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I should be working, but I needed a break from real life for a bit. I've had this for a while, but I'm only now getting it in shape to post. New chapters every few days. Enjoy!

* * *

 _I'll pretend that I'm kissing  
The lips I am missing  
And hope that my dreams will come true_

It was a relatively slow Wednesday morning, and Draco was sifting through paperwork. He had an interview scheduled for ten, and he was trying to catch up on the last of his written reports before then. He signed his name with a flourish to the last of the parchments and, with a flick of his wand, sent them into the tray labelled 'Outgoing'. He pulled out his pocket watch. Just in time; it read two minutes before ten.

Elena Vargas, the senior administrative assistant to all the mid-level Ministry Curse-Breakers, poked her head in the partially open door. "Miss Weasley to see you, Mr Malfoy."

"Elena, I've told you to call me Draco," he chided. "We're colleagues."

"Yes, Mr—Draco. Shall I send her in?"

"Certainly." He offered Elena what he hoped was a reassuring smile. She was younger than he by a year or two, and since her promotion the previous month, she still seemed wary of all the mid-levels—especially Draco. She was highly competent, but she lacked confidence sometimes. Of course, the fact that he was still generally viewed with wariness might have had something to do with it as well.

Elena disappeared from the doorway. Less than a minute later, a petite, athletic redhead appeared in her place. When Ginevra Weasley pushed the door open further, her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "Malfoy?" she squeaked.

He frowned. Hadn't anyone told her that he would be conducting her interview? "Please, come in and have a seat."

Hesitantly, she stepped over the threshold and sat delicately balanced on the edge of her seat. "I had no idea you would be interviewing me," she said.

At least she was honest. Draco told her, "I'm the most senior mid-level Curse-Breaker at the moment, which gives me the dubious honour of hiring new staff." He smiled, hoping to assure her that he would remain professional throughout.

She relaxed marginally. "All right, then."

"I was surprised to see your name on my list this morning," Draco admitted. "I thought you were playing Quidditch these days."

She nodded. "I was, but I wanted to be done with all that. It was too much—the travel, the constant training. I was ready for a change."

"I see. How did you decide to go into curse-breaking?"

"My brother. He still works for Gringotts, but I wasn't interested in playing nice with Goblins. He offered to contact someone he knew at the Ministry." She smiled faintly. "Apparently, he meant you."

"Not really," Draco said. "He probably meant one of my superiors. What sort of experience do you have with curse-breaking, Miss Weasley?"

They continued the interview for the next twenty minutes. By the end of it, Draco was thoroughly impressed with Ginevra. "I need to connect with my immediate supervisor, but I would like to tentatively offer you the position." He hesitated. "You would be working directly with me," he informed her. "I trust that won't be a problem."

She tipped her head to the side. "You're different to how I remembered you," she said.

He wanted to laugh. He certainly hoped he was nothing like his adolescent self. "Is that a good thing?"

Ginevra actually did giggle. "Most definitely."

"Provided all of your references and parchments are in order, then, I shall see you next Monday at eight," Draco said. "Good day, Miss Weasley."

She stood and extended her hand. "If we're going to be working together, please call me Ginny."

Draco also stood and accepted the handshake. "Very well, Ginny."

She smiled warmly at him and exited his office. Draco resumed his seat. This would certainly be interesting, he decided.

* * *

Ginny turned out to be a highly competent witch and an easy confidante. He knew he could be demanding—his perfectionism was what had taken him through the ranks at the Ministry—but she dished it back. Ginny Weasley was not a pushover. He liked that about her, and he told her so. She was perfectly positioned to rise in her career, though he kept that information to himself for the time being. It was too soon for that.

Over the next month, Draco and Ginny developed an excellent professional relationship which began to extend beyond work into friendship. It was surprising, as Draco had never had a favourable impression of her family. Three more of them were now his respected colleagues, but the older ones almost never collaborated with Draco's department and mostly avoided him. Every now and again, he had to deal with Ron, who was with the Aurors. Ron would never refuse to work with Draco, though he did make it clear it wasn't his preference. On the other hand, he wasn't openly hostile; he limited his remarks to mild jabs, frequently made in a competitive professional spirit. Draco counted the lack of reference to his dubious history as a point in his favour. It was certainly better than the hushed conversations that ended with glares whenever he was in the ministry canteen or the veiled threats to his person that he often still endured when he ventured into public wizarding space. Obviously ten years wasn't enough for some people to forget, on both sides.

One warm morning late in June, Draco heard Ginny tap lightly on his door. He knew her knock, though he was surprised that she was coming round so early in the day. He called for her to enter, and she breezed in with her hand full of what appeared to be tickets.

"Guess what?" She was grinning ear-to-ear, and her enthusiasm was almost exploding out of her. Draco wondered what on earth had her so excited.

"What?" He eyed her warily.

She dropped a copy of the morning _Prophet_ on his desk. He sighed. He had very little patience for this; his desk was piling up with work, and Ginny's interruption was not particularly welcome.

"I don't have time to read the _Prophet_ for clues." He kept his eyes fixed on the file in front of him.

Clearly sensing she shouldn't drag things out, Ginny said, "Harry's back."

Draco dropped the quill he'd been holding. "Er. Repeat that, please?"

"I said, Harry's coming home."

"Harry _Potter_?"

"Is there some other Harry we both know? There's supposed to be a public affair followed by a smaller welcoming party by ticket only." She paused. "Would you like to go with me?"

Draco wrinkled his nose inelegantly in an attempt not to sneer; he didn't want to offend his most valuable employee. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Oh, come on. You're as curious as I am about what he's been up to since he left."

He wanted to pretend he it wasn't true. Harry Potter had been gone for nearly six years and no one seemed to have any idea what he'd been doing all that time. As far as Draco knew, Potter had completed Auror training and spent a year or so with the corps. After that, he'd disappeared, and the rumour was that he'd gone to America. He'd been lost to the ether after that. The fact that he was returning—and in such a public way; when had Potter ever made his own announcements in the media?—would be the talk of the Wizarding world.

"Since when does Potter—er, what exactly is it he does, anyway?"

"He's an expert in wandlore, and he's taken a teaching position at the University of Magical Arts and Sciences."

Not having anything else in his hand to drop, Draco let his jaw take care of that part. He knew he must look like a fish, gawping at Ginny like that, but he was beyond caring. "Er," Draco managed, trying to reassemble his face and failing miserably.

Ginny snickered. "Put yourself back together, Malfoy."

He closed his mouth. "Wait a minute. If this is such a big deal, why hasn't it been in the _Prophet_ before now?"

"No one knew. He didn't even tell my family—he wanted it to be a surprise." She waved the tickets. "He sent me an extra one with a note that said 'Just in case'."

"Why can't you just go and tell me about it later?"

She gave him a patronising smile. "Because I know you want to go but you won't because you refuse to attend alone and hide behind a Glamour. Besides, if you come with me, you'll be able to attend the private party afterwards. Come on. I'll protect you from any unwanted attention. Please?"

Ginny was well aware that Draco tried to stay away from large public events; it was the price he still paid for his youthful ignorance and cruelty—people generally did not appreciate his presence. This was Potter, however, and he was torn between 'Hell, no' and 'I need to see this for myself'. He chose the latter. "All right. When shall I meet you?"

"There's an Apparition point about three blocks from the University. The public event is at seven, so we should meet at six-thirty."

"Fine. Now, will you leave me alone so I can finish this?" Draco raised an eyebrow at her, daring her to make an attempt to continue the conversation.

Ginny grinned. "Yes, sir." She swept from his office, pulling the door shut on the way out.

When he was sure she was out of earshot, Draco groaned and let his head fall onto his desk. What the hell had he been thinking?


	2. Chapter 2

On Saturday night, Draco waited at the Apparition point. At exactly six-thirty, Ginny appeared, followed by several other Weasleys. Draco had to work hard not to fidget. He was glad they'd chosen to meet a respectable distance from the University, as he had no idea how his presence would be received. This would give him ample time to work up to coping with the reactions. At least some of the attendees were sure to assume he was there to renew his schoolboy rivalry with Potter. The ridiculous thing about that was how far it was from the truth. After everything that had happened, Draco had no interest in doing anything whatsoever to jeopardise the security he'd built over the ten years since then.

He shook his head at the way things had played out. Here he was, surrounded by a sea of Weasleys, all willing to ensure his public safety. When had he begun trusting them, exactly? He supposed that he could thank Ginny for that. Since she'd come to work for him, he'd noticed that Granger, who worked as a solicitor and was occasionally around the Ministry, had become reasonably friendly, and even Ron had sent a friendly remark or two his direction once or twice when they'd chanced to be in the lift together. Draco found himself oddly touched by the warmth these people showed him, despite the fact that he'd never given them reason to do so. He was determined to work that much harder not to live down to the standards his father had set.

Ginny made introductions to the few whom Draco had never formally met. George and his wife, whom Ginny called Angelina, were cordial, as was the stunning blond woman who was apparently married to Ginny's eldest brother, Bill. Bill himself was cooler, but he said nothing rude or harsh. Another one of Ginny's brothers introduced himself as Charlie. He was unaccompanied, and Draco didn't know whether he was unpartnered or had simply left a significant other at home.

Draco was pleasantly surprised when Ginny's father asked after his own parents. He thought it might have been the longest conversation he'd ever had with Mr Weasley. Percy, whom Draco knew from the Ministry, was also reasonably friendly. Ron, his arm looped protectively around his very pregnant wife's shoulders, offered Draco his hand, and Hermione greeted him warmly. Relief washed over him; it was looking to be a pleasant evening after all, despite the odd circumstances.

Ginny took his arm and they walked to the University. She had warned him there would be a queue, and she'd been right to suggest arriving early. Even so, they had to wait for a considerable amount of time before being ushered into a large lecture hall. Despite the Weasleys' efforts, Draco still received several sneers and at least one muttered comment. He tried to ignore it. He'd long since accepted that it was his own doing, and he simply worked around it whenever he was out. It no longer carried the sting it once did. Where it really hurt was in the way he'd had to resign himself to the idea of remaining single for the rest of his life; after all, who would want to be tarnished by a former Death Eater? There was nothing any number of supportive Weasleys could do for that.

At last they were seated in the large lecture hall. The lights dimmed, and an impressively dressed man with a neatly cropped white beard stepped to the podium. He placed his wand to his throat, and though Draco couldn't hear the spell from where he sat, he knew the man was casting Sonorus. He made a long, rambling speech about a hero's homecoming, and Draco couldn't help rolling his eyes. It helped to imagine a very flustered Potter scowling off-stage; Draco hid a smug smile.

At last the man introduced Potter and stepped aside. A moment later, Harry Potter himself appeared on the stage and took his place behind the podium. Draco had to hold his breath to keep from gasping. The man at the front of the lecture hall was most certainly _not_ the same Potter who had left the country six years prior. Certainly he looked more or less the same, though he appeared to have done away with his ridiculous glasses and his hair was considerably longer, pulled back and tied elegantly. But there was something else, an air of—what? confidence?—that he now possessed, and it radiated from his whole being. His voice was commanding, yet not in a way that indicated an attempt to control his audience. Everything about him exuded a kind of authority that Draco was absolutely convinced had not been there before. It was mesmerising.

Curiosity got the better of Draco and he leaned forward in his seat to listen to what Potter was saying. He was explaining where he had been for the previous six years. As it turned out, Potter had spent most of his time travelling and studying wandlore, particularly the methods used to infuse wands with some aspect of the creator's magical aura, though he didn't go into the particulars. He was trained in the detection of rare and powerful wand components and had researched various theories associated with wand allegiance. In his position at the University, he would be able to continue his work as well as provide instruction for future ministry professionals regarding effective wand use. During the University's summer holidays, he would be providing additional training for the current Aurors.

Potter finished speaking and the room exploded with applause. It seemed the Wizarding world was more than ready to welcome their some-time hero back home. The Minister and a few of the University faculty gave brief comments, and the public portion of the event concluded. Ginny tapped Draco lightly on the arm and said they would wait until most of the attendees had left before making their way upstairs. Draco nodded; he knew this was as much for his own good as for the sake of herding the whole dozen of them to the private party without losing sight of one another.

When there was enough space to move, Draco and the Weasleys made their way to the enchanted rooftop garden where the private party was to be held. There were a number of familiar faces from the DMLE as well as a few people Draco hadn't seen since school and several he didn't recognise at all. He looked around for Potter.

He finally spotted him by a flowering shrub, talking to an unfamiliar man in black robes. Draco couldn't help taking a sharp breath. Potter looked good. He had changed from the official indigo robes worn by University faculty into emerald-green robes, and he had untied his shoulder-length hair. Draco noted that he still wasn't wearing his glasses, meaning he hadn't simply removed them while giving his speech.

Potter looked up, and Draco tried to shrink behind the rest of the Weasleys. He figured there were enough of them there to cover for him. He had a sudden urge to back away and run from the building.

Ginny wasn't going to allow that, though. She looped her arm through his and tugged lightly in Potter's direction. When they arrived, she let go in order to take hold of Potter and give him a thorough embrace. Something twisted inside Draco's gut, and he suddenly hated himself for feeling so bothered by the warmth between Ginny and Potter. He reminded himself that his friendship with her was only recent, just before his brain helpfully reminded him that perhaps it wasn't Potter of whom he was jealous. He batted that thought away as quickly as it had arrived.

"Welcome home," Ginny breathed. "You know Teddy's going to be over the moon that you're home."

Potter laughed. "As if he hadn't just been to visit me in the States. He won't have nearly the adventures now I'm back." Potter's eyes flicked to Draco, but if he was surprised to see him, it didn't register. "Evening, Malfoy," he said casually. His voice was warm, but his smile was tight and it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Draco cleared his throat. "So. You're back."

"I am, at least for now."

"I had no idea you knew so much about wandlore," Draco blurted. He wanted to kick himself for sounding so ridiculous.

Potter only smiled again. "Until a few years ago, I had no idea I'd be any good at this either. I went into Auror training anxious to use my practical Defence skills."

Curiosity got the better of Draco. "How did you discover this hidden talent?"

"Using those practical Defence skills I mentioned turned out to be a terrible idea."

"What, didn't like saving the world?" Draco tried to keep a sneer in his voice, but dammit, he found himself genuinely wanting an answer.

"I loved it, actually. But I don't exactly have the advantage of being unknown, do I? Anyway, I decided I was tired of ruining missions with my notoriety, and I was also bloody sick of the _Prophet_ following me everywhere I went. So I left for America."

Draco frowned. "But wouldn't they have known about you there, too?"

"Not really. We tend to think of 'the whole world' as being Britain, or possibly the Continent. But Voldemort wasn't ever much of a threat anywhere else. It was nice, being unknown."

"And that gave you the chance to start looking into wandmaking, did it?"

Potter sighed a little. "No, not wand _making_ , wand _lore_. There's a substantial difference. I study their use. Wasn't something I'd considered until one of my colleagues mentioned it after a raid. She said I knew far more about their wands than about the criminals themselves."

"So now you're here to—what, corrupt young minds at the University?"

Potter coughed. "Naturally." He tilted his chin slightly. "Good thing we've got your department to sort them back out when I'm through with them."

Draco could have sworn he saw Potter wink, but the impression was gone before he could properly register it. His face heated up slightly, and he hoped the low light wouldn't reveal his flush. He'd been expecting Potter to take his comments personally, much like they both had done when they were younger.

By that point, Ginny had wandered off to talk with someone else. Draco glanced over to her, then back at Potter. "Just where does one become an expert in wandlore, anyway?"

"Did you know there are several good Wizarding universities in the States?" He gave an unfamiliar-sounding name. "It's part of a Muggle school. Clever, really, to hide it in plain sight."

"And now you're spending your summer working for your old department at the Ministry. However are you containing your enthusiasm?"

"I'm hardly working for the Ministry. Well, yes, technically I'm in the DMLE this summer, but I'm only doing some staff training before I begin my teaching post. That pays better, and it's lots more prestigious, too." He laughed, and the vibrations stirred something inside Draco.

"With your wonderful life of obscurity, I can't even imagine what possessed you to return here." Draco let the sarcasm drip heavily through his words.

Potter shrugged, either unaware or ignoring it. "I was ready to come home. Besides, I figured now I've earned some fame for something other than Saving the Damned World, I could embrace my status."

"Always knew you were an attention whore," Draco muttered. He cringed; he was sure Potter would whip out his wand and hex him for that.

Instead of rage, however, a wide grin spread over Potter's face. "Ah, _there's_ the Malfoy I remember. Good to see you haven't completely given up being an arse." He patted Draco firmly on the shoulder.

Draco huffed, but he let himself grin slyly at Harry. "Even I have to keep up appearances," he said. "Couldn't let the world think I've gone soft."

"That's enough about me," Potter said firmly. " What about you? I know you're a Curse-Breaker and you work with Ginny." He paused and leaned in. "Is there something going on between the pair of you?"

Draco snorted; he couldn't help it. "Besides being colleagues, no. Potter, I'm _gay_. Surely even the Golden Hero knows what that means?"

Potter didn't say anything, but he quirked an eyebrow at Draco. "I wasn't aware of that."

"Of course not. You've been out of the country for the last six years. Apparently you missed the front-page story in the _Prophet_ wherein I came out and admitted my love affair with Severus Snape."

Potter's eyebrows shot up and his mouth dropped open. After several seconds, however, he started laughing. "Oh, Merlin. You're having me on, you wanker." He punched Draco on the arm good-naturedly. "Well, fuck me," he muttered. "I do believe Draco Malfoy just made a joke at his own expense."

"Good lord, Potter. You're as bad as Ginny. It's hard to believe how crass the pair of you are."

Potter just grinned, and it made Draco's face hot again. Even after so much time had passed, Potter could still wind him up.

Ginny returned to Draco's side with two glasses of champagne, and he sighed in relief. She handed one to him and sipped the other. Potter looked at her, and it appeared he couldn't tear his eyes away.

"I'm so glad to be home," he said softly, and she smiled.

Draco wished he could hurl the glass at the pair of them and be done with it. He gave himself over to the realisation that he wasn't merely annoyed they were able to have something he was not, even if he didn't wish to follow the trail to its natural end. That thought only made him more frustrated; there was no good reason why he should be so jealous of the obvious attraction between them. After all, hadn't they once been together? Besides, Potter had never given any indication—at least, not in the previous five-minute conversation—that he wasn't interested in pursuing things further with her. It was clear Potter had asked after his and Ginny's relationship in order to be certain she was still available.

After what seemed like an eternity, the small party began breaking up. Potter claimed to be exhausted after his long trip and the public affair. He kissed Ginny on the cheek, shook hands all around, and bid a fond good night to Ron and Hermione. He offered a last smile to Draco, which resulted in nothing less than a tribe of butterflies taking up residence in Draco's stomach. Then he turned on the spot and Apparated away.

Ginny rested her hand on Draco's arm. "Thanks for coming with me," she said.

"It was my pleasure," he forced. It had been, too, until the party. He tried to smile at her. "Get some rest. You'll need it—we have a big project to tackle on Monday."

Ginny laughed. "Yes, sir."

Draco Apparated away, leaving Ginny with the rest of her family.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco was unable to keep Potter out of his thoughts. He told himself it was unreasonable; after more than ten years, he should have been able to speak to Potter without becoming obsessed with him. Yet somehow, he was fixated again, just as he had been back in school. The updated version was less about making Potter suffer, however, and more a desire to know every detail of what the man was up to. It was driving him mad that he wasn't able to control his reaction. So what if Potter had turned out all right? This was no more than the result of it having been far too long since he'd been with anyone.

His frustration made him irritable. Arriving at work on Monday, he snapped at three different people on his way in and very nearly told Elena exactly where she could put the stack of messages she handed to him. He closed his door with more force than necessary and slumped down in his office chair. On reflection, he decided it was all Potter's fault after all. Draco had a tidy, clean life which had taken him years to build after the war. In a matter of hours, Potter had managed to put him in such a state that he was on the verge of destroying it. There was no way he was going to allow that to happen. Besides, Potter had a knack for finding every way possible to wind him up, and _that_ was sure to end badly, wasn't it?

He decided to put the entire thing out of his mind. It had been a single party—there was no reason he should ever need to encounter Potter again. After all, he wasn't in the habit of attending classes at the University, nor was he involved at all with the continued training of the Aurors. He would even give up reading the _Prophet_ if he had to, just to avoid seeing anything about the Hero of the Wizarding World's return.

As luck would have it, he wouldn't be let off so easily.

Ginny appeared in his doorway around ten. She'd already spent an hour poring over the files he'd left her and taking notes on the case at hand. It was a tricky piece of work, removing a large number of enchantments on a house in a shady part of London. There were so many Dark spells in various parts of the house it would require multiple trips and a team of several competent Curse-Breakers. It could take weeks to sort out.

Included in the process was the undoing of a failed Fidelius charm wherein the original secret-keeper had died before it could be removed. Such a state wasn't unheard of, but in this case, the Fidelius had fragmented into at least twenty parts, and over a long period of time, it had begun to break down. The other secret-keepers were no longer able to tell anyone about the location, even in writing, nor take anyone there—only the owner of the property could do so. On top of that, the location was known to at least three former Death Eaters. Two of them were serving life sentences in Azkaban, but the third was still at large, even ten years later. In fact, the whole thing was made more awkward by the fact that the actual owner of the property was also under some sort of protection and couldn't be identified by anyone other than, apparently, him- or herself. Draco surmised it was someone wealthy or important, as the Ministry rarely put in that much effort for private residences.

Draco and Ginny went over the plans for dismantling the charms. It appeared nearly all the people who had set them were dead. Ginny herself, though not one of the secret-keepers due to being well under-age at the time, knew the location and the owner, but was unable to reveal either. Every time she accidentally started to say something, a tongue-tie curse kicked in and Draco had to undo it before they could continue their work. It was infuriating.

The only reason they were bothering with this case was that the owner wanted to sell it but couldn't do so because he or she couldn't list it due to the Fidelius and other protective spells. On top of everything else, it looked like the previous inhabitants had used all sorts of odd spells to insure the house would remain in the family. As he went over the parchments, Draco growled in frustration. It would be easier to blow up the damn house than to remove the protective spells.

Two hours later, they were still working on their plan when there was a forceful knock on the office door.

"Come in!" Draco called. When the door opened, he nearly fell off his seat.

"Malfoy?" Potter said. "I had no idea _you_ were the one working on my house." He plopped into the seat across the desk from Draco.

The house with the failed Fidelius was _Potter's_? And no-one had bothered to fill Potter in when he arrived that it was Draco's case? The fact that no-one seemed willing to tell people anything when he was involved was unacceptable. Draco would have to have a word with someone.

"What is _wrong_ with everyone in this department?" Draco muttered.

"Sorry?" Potter looked taken aback, and Draco realised he'd spoken aloud.

"My apologies," Draco said, laying aside his quill. "Yes, I'm the one who's been working on this, along with Ginny. We will put together a team of competent specialists as soon as the plans are in place and you're ready to proceed. Are you at least able to give me the address?"

"Of course I can. It's number twelve, Grimmauld Place." He cleared his throat. "The old Black family residence."

Draco did his best to hide his surprise. He'd known his aunt had coveted the property, but something had gone wrong when she'd tried to claim her inheritance. It would seem the house had somehow fallen to Potter, though Draco couldn't fathom how exactly. He would need to find out not only what had happened that the house had become Potter's property but also why it had been placed under a Fidelius.

"Shall we go over the details?" he asked.

"Sure, yeah," Potter replied. "The sooner we figure this out, the better. I'm ready to see the back of that house. The whole neighbourhood, in fact. It absolutely reeks of wealthy, old Purebloods dabbling in the Dark Arts." His eyes widened, and he clapped a hand over his mouth. "Merlin, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to imply—"

Draco held up a hand. "It's fine, Potter. What's done is done, and I'm no longer associated with those sorts of magic."

Potter sighed. "It's not just the Dark artifacts and spells," he said. "The reason the house was under a Fidelius is that it's where we hid from Voldemort and anyone associated with him. The only good memories I have of being there all involve people who have been dead more than ten years. I need a fresh start."

Understanding the desire for a blank parchment, Draco nodded. "Shall we take a look, then? I'm certain I can help you."

* * *

After work, Draco desperately needed a drink and some time to unwind. Although he and Potter had managed not to hex one another, they'd had a number of small disagreements about various aspects of the house, including the removal of several permanent sticking charms. Unfortunately, this had a strange effect on Draco. Rather than curing him of his Potter obsession, it only served to fuel it. No-one other than Ginny had been relaxed enough around him to disagree with him without apology. He found it oddly refreshing.

While Ginny gathered her belongings from his desk, he tidied up and neatly stacked his parchments related to the case. He wondered whether she was tired of his company or if she would be willing to go someplace with him. He felt he could use a friendly face and some light conversation about something other than Potter's house. After a moment's hesitation he said, "It's been a long day. I'm going out for a nice glass of firewhiskey and something to eat. Do you want to join me?"

Ginny shrugged. "Sure. Let me get my things."

When Ginny had rejoined Draco at the lift, she asked where he had in mind. He said, "I know a place not far from here. We can walk there, and there's an Apparition point behind it."

"Sounds good," she agreed.

He brought her to his favourite new spot, a little place called the Torchlight. It happened to be owned by Pansy Parkinson, but Draco had a feeling he should keep that fact to himself. It was technically a Muggle pub, but it catered heavily to wizard tastes as well.

After the war, it had been harder for Pansy even than for himself. He'd had the benefit of a trial and Harry Potter testifying on his behalf; Pansy hadn't had either. Yet she still had a reputation to put behind her—she'd been the one to suggest turning Potter over, after all. No one looked kindly on that. Potter's allies had viewed her as siding with Death Eaters, but that wasn't strictly true; she'd merely been in self-preservation mode. Potter's enemies had known she wasn't truly on their side and had seen her as an opportunist and a traitor.

She'd spent several years hiding amongst Muggles and had, of all things, actually married one. She'd told him upfront; part of moving beyond her past had been to refuse anything with the appearance of dishonesty. Surprisingly, her husband had taken it rather well. It was unclear whether this was because he was somewhat dim or because he claimed to have magical relatives—though he wouldn't, or couldn't, say who. Together, they operated the Torchlight. He usually tended bar, but on busier nights, Pansy served as well. Either way, Draco knew she would be about somewhere and glad to see him.

Inside, both the lighting and the conversation were at a low level. They approached the bar, where they were greeted by Pansy's husband. He was a large, muscular man with a mop of shaggy blond hair that could have rivalled Hogwarts-era Potter's in its quest for untidiness. After asking Ginny what she wanted, Draco ordered for both of them. They took their glasses and chose a table by the window. Just as they were settling in and perusing menus, the door opened and in walked Potter. Draco suppressed a groan.

The Universe was out to destroy him.

He wasn't alone; he was with Ron, who had his Auror robes slung casually over one arm. They were laughing about something, but Draco wasn't interested in what. He could only sit there, helpless to do anything but stare at Potter. He wasn't wearing the elegant robes he'd had on at the party, nor was he in the professional robes he'd had on that morning. Instead, he was wearing Muggle denims and a t-shirt, and damn it all if he didn't look good. Were he anyone else, he would have been precisely Draco's type. Draco cursed himself for having such an inappropriate thought, though it didn't stop him from taking one last peek at Potter's rather fine, tight arse before dragging his attention back to Potter's face.

Potter was leaning against the bar, talking to Pansy's husband as though they were old friends. He shook the man's hand and clapped him on the shoulder. The man said something that had Potter barking out another laugh and exchanging a glance with Ron.

Draco sighed.

Ginny had obviously heard him; she followed his gaze and saw Potter at the bar, his arm slung around her brother's shoulders. "Oh! Harry's here, and he's with Ron." She hesitated. "I need to go to the loo. Why don't I ask them to join us on my way back?"

Draco lifted one shoulder slightly. "Why not?" It couldn't be any worse than having them sit three tables over, just near enough for Draco to continue staring. On second thought, that might be better. At least that way he could look without Potter realising and thinking him rude.

He made to change his mind, but Ginny slid out of her seat and went in search of the toilets. Draco fiddled with his glass, stared out the window, and opened and closed his menu. When he couldn't stand it any longer, he finally turned back to watch Potter, but by that time, he saw it was just Ron. Potter had disappeared somewhere. Draco returned to sipping his drink absently while he waited for Ginny. After a few moments, he heard a slight rustle and assumed Ginny had come back to their table. When he looked up, however, it was not Ginny seated across from him.

"Fancy meeting you here, Malfoy," Potter said.

"You're the one who chose to sit down. By the way, what are you doing in here?" He had an insane desire to add 'in my favourite pub', but he refrained.

"I'm having a drink after work, same as you."

"I meant, why are you in this specific pub? Aren't you supposed to be signing autographs someplace?"

Potter snorted. "It just so happens I know the barman here," he said. "He's my cousin."

"The hell?" Draco just stared. He had to fight the urge to bang his head on something.

Potter frowned. "That's how I knew about this place. Dudley somehow managed to send me an owl inviting me to stop in. We haven't really been in touch since I left, but I was glad to see he's doing all right for himself."

"I think I know how he sent you the owl," Draco said faintly. "He's married to Pansy."

"Parkinson? No shit." It was Potter's turn to stare.

"None whatsoever, I assure you. Well. This certainly makes things interesting."

Potter, for some reason, found the whole thing funny. "Oh, Merlin. It makes sense, really," he said. "Those two are a match made in—well, definitely not heaven, that's for damn sure. They suit each other, though."

Draco was doing his best to glare at Potter, despite the fact that he was absolutely right—Pansy and Dudley were perfect together. "Can't argue with you there," he said grudgingly. "It still doesn't explain why you're sitting at my table, though."

"Touchy, aren't we?" Potter shrugged. "Saw you sitting here with Ginny and figured maybe we'd join you."

"Did it occur to you we didn't want your company?"

Potter snorted. "You're not on a date with her, Malfoy, unless you were lying to me the other night." He paused, looking up at the ceiling and back down at Draco. "Which you might well have been given that you also told me you were shagging Snape." He leaned closer. "Or letting him—"

"Potter! That's disgusting. I never said sh—I never said _that_. I said 'love affair'. There's a difference. And no, I wasn't lying about being gay."

"Whatever." Potter waved his hand airily.

Draco studied Potter for a moment. Something was different. When he finally figured it out, he said, "You're wearing your glasses."

Potter chuckled. "Well, yes, you see, because I'm nearly blind without them. Smooth transition, there, by the way. Funny, you always used to think my glasses were stupid."

"Maybe I still do. What I meant was, you didn't wear them the other night." Draco was flustered. He was used to having the upper hand and being the one with the witty retorts. It was unnerving, having Potter be so capable.

"Ah. That would be my contact lenses."

"Con-what?"

"Contact lenses. Muggle invention, but they work better than trying to charm my eyesight into behaving. Muggles _do_ occasionally have good ideas, you know." He raised an eyebrow as if daring Draco to contradict.

Draco had to will himself not to rise to it. He was torn between finding this side of Potter hex-worthy and incredibly sexy. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to say, "How was training this afternoon?"

"Miserable. Aurors just out of training are ridiculously arrogant. I wonder if I was that bad at their age."

"You were probably worse."

Potter grinned. "Probably." He took a large swig of his drink. "What about you? Any more progress on my house?"

"I—"

Draco didn't get the chance to respond. Ginny returned, slipping into the booth next to Draco, and Ron sat down beside Harry.

"So, what are we talking about?" Ron asked, looking from Draco to Potter. His tone was light, but his eyes were hard—he obviously thought it might be unwise to leave the two of them alone too long. Draco agreed, but he decided they probably had very different ideas about why.

"Oh, nothing, really," Potter said. "Work, mostly."

Ron groaned. "No, thanks. I just came from there."

They chatted companionably for a bit, Potter and Ron doing most of the talking. Draco noticed that Ginny kept stealing glances at Potter, but she said very little. That wasn't like her; she was normally quite animated. He could practically _see_ her thinking, and he wondered what was on her mind. He didn't get the chance to ask her. She excused herself the moment she was through eating. Draco tried to convince her to stay, but she told him she was too tired.

Potter gave Ginny a warm smile and wished her goodnight then turned to Draco with a sly grin. "You're welcome to stay, but I can't promise Ron will behave."

"Hey!" Ron protested. "We work together, and I've only hexed him once. All right, twice, if you count the stinging hex meant for Robards' arse."

"No, I should go," Draco muttered. At least he had confirmation that it was Ron who had 'initiated' him on his first day at the Ministry.

"Nah, I swear I'll be good," Ron said. "You don't have to go." He winced. "Never thought there'd be a day I would say that."

Draco shrugged and settled back into his seat. "Fine."

"Good," Potter said. "I'll order another round."

Eventually, Ron begged off, claiming an early morning, leaving Draco alone with Potter once more.

"So," Potter said. "It's down to us." He chuckled. "Like old times."

Draco scoffed. "Not entirely. As I recall, this would be the point when one of us would threaten or curse the other."

Potter raised his eyebrows. "Surely not in a semi-Muggle pub?"

"Of course not."

"Good. I'd really like to let the past stay where it is. I'm done fighting." Potter held Draco's gaze. "Are we agreed?"

Draco swallowed. There was much more behind Potter's words than merely calling a truce. "Potter—"

"Look. I'm not saying we have to be best mates or anything, but as long as we're working together on my house, we need to be all right with each other." He paused. "Can we do that much?"

"I—yes. Yes, we can."

Potter extended his hand across the table, and Draco took it. A smile spread across Potter's face. "Excellent."

Draco watched Potter's easy confidence as he collected himself and stood up from the table. Draco considered briefly whether he should ask Potter to join him for a drink again sometime to test their new acceptance of one another, but by the time he had nearly worked himself up to it, Potter was stepping out the door and into the night.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** The reviews, favorites, and follows are lovely. I'm so glad people are enjoying this. Here is the next chapter.

* * *

The next morning, Draco and Ginny spent only fifteen minutes with Potter, making a schedule for trips to his house. They would need to make several, and they had to be planned around Potter's training courses. Draco would take the first trip that afternoon once Potter had finished training. He could assess the house directly and have access to it, after which he could determine how many people he needed and for how long.

Draco took Ginny with him on several small assignments before meeting with Potter. A woman who was divorcing her husband had cursed the lock on her soon-to-be ex's house so that it wouldn't open for anyone but her; a man had received a mysterious package in Diagon Alley which caused him to panic but turned out to be the early arrival of a shipment of pumpkin-flavoured toothpaste; and an argument in Muggle London had resulted in a pair of wizards simultaneously cursing each other with sticking charms and being stuck to both each other and the wall of a Muggle bank. The last one also required two Aurors and a team of Obliviators.

After the morning's excitement and a brief break to collect what he needed, Draco met Potter for the first visit to his house for an initial assessment of the breadth of curses to remove. He walked to their agreed upon Apparition point, case file in hand. Potter was already there, leaning against a wall and whistling. Draco's heart sped up and his palms grew clammy. It shouldn't have made him anxious, being alone with Potter, yet somehow it did. He paused, collecting himself before making his presence known.

"Afternoon, Potter," he said.

Potter twitched a little, then glanced over. "Ready to go?"

"Any time."

Potter extended his arm and Draco gripped it firmly; Potter turned on the spot and Draco felt the familiar pull. It was strange—he hadn't side-along Apparated in years. When they landed, they were on the top stone step of the entry to a large, unattractive house in a questionable neighbourhood. Although Potter had confirmed the house had belonged to Draco's extended family, he had no memories of having been there before. He thought that by the time he was old enough to recall, his mother's relations were dead or in Azkaban. He shuddered; perhaps it was best he hadn't spent much time in this creepy old house.

The moment they entered the doorway, the lamps flared. To one side was a set of thick, dark curtains. Draco eyed them, wondering what they were hiding. His eyes drifted away from the curtains, following the trail of house-elf heads up the staircase. He shuddered, but he had no time to consider any of that further. A voice whispered, "Severus Snape?"

Before Draco could react, he felt his tongue furl. Meanwhile, he heard Potter telling the bodiless voice that they were not Snape. Draco's tongue relaxed and so did he—for all of six seconds. A ghostly shape was forming from the carpet. Potter stepped around him and banished the figure; something about not killing it. Draco's heart was in his mouth and he had to remind himself he'd seen worse. These spells were frightening, but they were not dangerous—more of a nuisance than anything else.

"Now I understand why you need help," he told Potter.

Potter nodded. He leaned in and kept his voice low. "And that's not even the worst of it. There are at least three rooms with permanent sticking charms and a whole attic full of things I'd rather not dispose of myself."

Draco frowned. "Why are you still whisper—"

"Shh!" hissed Potter. "Please keep it down."

It was too late. With a bang, the curtains just by Draco's shoulder snapped open. A hideous old woman began shrieking at them, cursing the half-blood and his entire family. When she caught sight of Draco, she paused mid-rage to assess him. "You! Associating with filth and mudbloods! You have brought dishonour to the House of—"

She didn't finish. Potter pointed his wand at her and the curtains fell shut, silencing her. "That's why you whisper." He sighed. "That old bat is going to be the first thing to go."

"I see what you mean. Why haven't you taken her portrait down?"

"That's one of the permanent sticking charms I mentioned."

They stepped further into the house, eventually descending the stairs to a large kitchen. Draco was just glad to be away from the watchful eyes of the house-elf heads. He examined a dusty kitchen chair before sitting down. Potter rattled about, at last locating a tea-kettle and putting it on. He joined Draco at the table.

"So, now you've seen several of the things that need to be removed. All of the people who placed those spells are dead, and I have no idea how to go about dismantling any of them. I can possibly take care of some of the Dark artifacts in the attic, and there shouldn't be any left anywhere else. But I'm at a loss for the rest."

"Given time and a good team, I think I should be able to manage. As far as that painting goes, though, why didn't you put her in stasis?"

"You can do that?"

Draco nodded. "We'll have to, if we want to remove her. It's too bad—she was apparently my great-aunt."

"Once she's off my wall, you're welcome to her."

"I shall decline, thank you." He shuddered. He thought he understood why his mother had never brought him to visit her aunt; his own had been bad enough, and he'd only known Bellatrix when he was an adolescent. He couldn't fathom how he'd have reacted to either of them as a toddler.

"Not sure what I'll do with her when we're through." Potter chuckled. "I can only imagine the havoc she'd wreak at Hogwarts if I donated her there."

"Perhaps she could guard the kitchens. No-one would sneak food after meeting her."

Potter laughed. "She'd put everyone off their feed for months. So how do we go about getting her off my wall?"

* * *

After an hour or so of assessments and note-taking, they returned to the Ministry. Draco suggested they take a break and have a late lunch. Potter declined, excusing himself to his own work. He had a late afternoon training session, and he said he had a few things to do beforehand. Once he'd left, Draco invited Ginny to join him in the Ministry canteen instead. He thought to give her an update on the case.

When they were comfortably settled into their seats, he told her what he'd found at the house and what he proposed to do about it. As he spoke, he grew more animated, enjoying discussing the finer points of the work ahead. He concluded by saying, "It's actually fascinating. I think I'll take along a couple of the junior-level Curse-Breakers. It'll be good exercise for them, as there's not really anything dangerous—just complicated."

Once he was through talking, Ginny cleared her throat. Her expression was half amused, half exasperated. "So," she said, "I know what you think of the house. What do you think of Harry?"

Draco nearly choked on a mouthful of hot soup. He swallowed painfully. "Warn a bloke next time, Ginny."

"Sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "You've spent a couple of hours with him now, though. Well?"

"He—he looks as if he's doing well for himself," Draco managed, wondering where her sudden interest came from.

"Mm-hm." She sighed and looked a bit wistful. "Think he'd want to give us another go?"

Draco scowled. So that was where this was headed. "How should I know? Weren't you keeping in touch with him while he was gone?"

"Sometimes," she admitted. "Mostly through my parents. We were too young when he was still here, and neither of us was ready to settle down. We weren't that close anymore."

Draco set his spoon down. "What is it you want from me?"

She shrugged. "Just looking for advice on how to approach him, I suppose. You spent time with him, so I thought you might have some idea."

He raised his eyebrows. "You need advice on how to attract Potter? Have you looked in a mirror lately, Ginevra?"

She glared at him. "Don't call me that. Fine, yes, I know I look all right. But I don't have a lot of luck with dating as it is, and it's always been ten times worse with Harry. I get so nervous, and I can't figure out what to say to him. I've been like that since we were at school. We've been apart so long we hardly know each other anymore." She sighed again. "Why do you think I keep running off every time we're all together?"

Draco had, in fact, been wondering about her behaviour. He thought about the time they'd all been in at the Torchlight, when she'd abruptly left the minute she'd finished eating. She'd been so quiet the whole time, too, as though she couldn't gather her thoughts properly. It made sense if she fancied Potter, she might be nervous and stressed. He thought he could relate a bit.

He found himself saying to Ginny, "Fine. I'll try and help you."

She wrinkled her nose. "How?"

"Give me a minute to think." Draco sat for a moment, wishing _he_ could tell Potter what he was feeling—if he even knew what that was—when something struck him. If Ginny was having trouble speaking to Potter, perhaps she should try writing to him.

"I have an idea for you," he told her.

"Hm?" She had gotten distracted somehow and appeared to have lost the trail of their conversation.

"About Potter." He huffed at her lack of attention. "Seems like it's hard for you to talk to him when you're with him. What if you wrote him a letter and owled it?"

She laughed. "You're joking."

"No, I'm not. Why?"

"I'm no good at that sort of thing. Why do you think I didn't stay in better touch with him?"

"You write excellent reports for me."

"Well, that's different. It's work. This is personal."

"Not even a poem?"

She snorted. "I don't suppose you remember that stupid love poem from when Lockhart taught us Defence."

"That was more than fifteen years ago. You'll need to refresh my memory."

She flushed. "I compared his eyes to fresh pickled toads."

Draco stared at her for several seconds. "I have no clue what to do with that." As bad as her simile was, he had to admit Potter's eyes _were_ a rather magnificent shade of green. He wasn't sure he could blame her eleven-year-old self for failing to find a better comparison.

Ginny giggled. "My poetry skills were severely lacking, and they haven't improved much." She made a face. "I'm rubbish at all that hearts and flowers shite. Ask me to give you a play-by-play of the Quidditch World Cup and I can provide it in detail. Give me a complicated set of curses and have me explain how to untangle them and I have no problem. Love poetry and sappy letters? Forget it."

"Potter really doesn't seem the sort to care about how eloquent you are," Draco replied. "Besides, if he doesn't like the real you, it won't matter whether you write brilliantly or not."

She shrugged. "I don't know, actually. He's changed a lot, in case you haven't noticed."

Draco _had_ noticed, of course. Potter had surprised him with his confidence and his ease with their banter; there was no reason to think he wouldn't have changed in other ways. He suspected what Potter wanted was something a bit more substantial than love letters and chocolates delivered twice daily to his desk by owl. The thing was, and Draco would absolutely never admit it, he _did_ like hearts and flowers He wanted to be spoilt, to be courted and admired. At the same time, he wanted to give as good as he got—to tuck notes into his lover's lunch or leave drawings and poems on the mirror in the morning. For all their flaws, his parents were an exceptionally romantic pair, and they had set the bar high. Yet Draco didn't simply want mutual fawning over—he needed someone with whom the words could carry the weight of wit and intellect, someone who wasn't afraid to push back against his flaws and who could take it as well as dish it out. Perhaps that was the real reason his relationships were so few and far between—he had yet to find anyone who met those criteria. He ignored the small voice which whispered to him, _except for Potter._

He shook his head. "After spending time with him, I believe you have quite a lot of what he wants—you're clever and funny and kind, not to mention fit, and I think that's exactly what he's looking for. I doubt he's interested in someone who expects to give him a load of romantic rot without any substance behind it."

"Hm," Ginny said. "You may be right. I still wouldn't know where to start, though."

It occurred to him there might be a way to help Ginny _and_ tell Potter how he felt, even if Potter never knew. Perhaps in so doing, he could work this ridiculous budding crush out of his system, help Ginny get her love life in order, and finally be rid of Potter so he could get on with the rest of his life. He decided not to remind himself he would have to hear about it forever if this worked and they got married. He chose to ignore the lonely ache at the thought of them flying off into the sunset together.

"What if I helped you write it?" he asked. "You could bring me what you write, and I'll look it over and help you make changes."

Ginny's stared. "You would do that for me?"

He nodded. "Of course." He gave her a half-hearted glare. "If your work suffers because you're too busy daydreaming about Potter, I'll put you on desk duty and you'll be filing papers for the next month. Also, if you ever tell anyone that I'm a hopeless romantic who makes matches for my staff, resulting in countless requests for my assistance, I will do the same _and_ hex you. Understand?"

"Perfectly," she said, and she grinned at him.

He sat back in relief. It would work out after all. So why did he still feel so miserable, and why did he have a nagging feeling that there was something suspicious about Ginny's expression?


	5. Chapter 5

By the end of the day on Thursday, Draco regretted his agreement with Ginny to help her. She stopped by his office late in the afternoon and extended a parchment to him.

Looking up from his desk, he raised his eyebrows. "I thought you'd already completed the parchments for today," he said. "Did you forget something?"

"Nope. Just holding you to your promise to help me write a letter to Harry." She smiled sweetly, and he knew she was trying to charm him.

He bit back a snide reply. "Right. Let's see it, then." He accepted the parchment. When he read what she'd written, he was torn between laughing and groaning. She'd been right; she had little skill in creating a letter designed to pique the interest of a potential lover.

"Ginny, this would be fantastic…if you were twelve. I swear I don't know what happens to you between work and home. Your written reports for me are excellent, and you clearly have a good grasp of the language. How is it possible for you to fail so miserably at this?"

She sighed dramatically. "I told you. I don't know what to say to him. Just thinking about it makes my brain all muddled."

"Here." Draco drew another piece of parchment from a drawer and picked up his quill. "What you need is to let him know you're interested, but you must have a witty way to do it." He thought for a moment then wrote,

 _I've wanted to say something since you arrived home, but I wasn't sure where to start. Every time we're together I feel as though I've been hit with a tongue-tie curse. It's your eyes, of course. Maybe if you closed them I could feel free to speak._

"There, see? You're telling him you're feeling anxious about seeing him again after all this time, but you want to make a go of things anyway. You've reminded him you love his eyes—just like the whole 'fresh pickled toad' thing. Now you can add a few words about how it's easier to write it than say it face to face." He held out the quill to her.

"Could you do it? You're much better at it than I am."

He huffed, but he agreed. "How about this?"

 _For the moment, I'm finding it easier to put it on parchment than in person. But perhaps we could have tea and_

Ginny stopped him. "No, no. I'm not ready for a date yet. We need time to get to know each other. Say that we should keep writing for a while until we're both ready to talk."

Draco shook his head. "This is absolutely the weirdest thing I've ever done for an employee. Ginny, it's just _Potter_. Surely you can manage tea in the Ministry canteen?"

"Not yet. Please," she begged. "I promise I won't keep asking for your help forever. Just a little while longer."

"Fine." He flicked the parchment and siphoned the last sentence off the page. "What about this, then?"

 _Perhaps we could take some time to become reacquainted. Please write back to me and tell me what you think._

"There. Will that do?"

"Hm," Ginny said. "It needs something. A poem?"

Draco curled his lip in annoyance. "Certainly not one of your usual. How about haiku? Those are fairly easy, and they follow a specific structure. You could learn it, and it would prove you've come a long way since your fresh pickled toad days."

"Show me," she demanded.

"All right. Like this," Draco said, putting quill to parchment again.

 _Hidden inside me_

 _a thousand butterflies rise—_

 _I await your words._

"Perfect!" she exclaimed. "Now, how about a greeting?"

"And a signature line as well. What about 'Dearest Harry'? You could sign it something like, 'Your Only' and your name. What do you think?"

"Er."

Draco bit back a groan. "Now what?"

"I want to keep it anonymous."

He set down the quill and put his head in his hands. "This is ridiculous! I keep telling you, it's not that difficult. _Why_ would you want to do it in secret? You have known Potter for—what, sixteen years or so? You're already doing everything in the most convoluted way possible. It would be best to simply tell him the truth."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "No. The mystery adds to the romance. Even I know that much."

Draco considered that for a moment. He had to admit she had a point, but even better, he realised it afforded him an opportunity. He set that aside and concentrated on answering Ginny without sounding too enthusiastic. "All right. I actually can't argue with that one. So, you'll send him a few anonymous letters and then tell him it's you once he's fallen madly in love?"

"Something like that, yes." She winked. "Perfect, yes?"

"I suppose. If it's meant to be all mysterious, what about just signing it 'your only', as I suggested before, but without your name?"

"I like it," she said, grinning. She turned the parchment towards herself and read over Draco's work. "Done. I'll owl it as soon as I get home."

"Actually, why don't you send it to his temporary office here?" he asked. "I'll show you how to turn it into an origami figure like the ones we use for memos. Fitting, with the haiku and all."

"Ooh! Can you make it into a swan?"

"Yes, of course. Here." He held out his hand, and she gave him the parchment. He tapped it with his wand, transforming it and setting it to flight.

"Thanks! That'll be just right. I'll ask you next week for help with another one, if he writes back." She grinned, and something about it annoyed him deeply. He hoped it wouldn't become a distraction at work. Or maybe he really hoped Potter wouldn't bother writing her back.

"Wonderful. Now, do you think you could leave me to finish my work in peace?" Draco gave what he thought was a look that plainly said their conversation was done and focussed his attention on his desk.

Ginny took the hint. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said, standing up.

"Right," Draco replied, not looking up from his parchments. "Tomorrow."

Once she had left and he was sure he was alone, he set down his quill and closed his eyes. He rubbed at his temples. He wanted to be happy for Ginny and Potter, but he was entirely incapable of mustering feelings of goodwill towards them. If only he could have signed his name to the bottom of the letter. He chided himself for having such a ridiculous notion and went on about finishing his task.

* * *

Draco hand-selected every member of his team of field workers to perform the complex spells required for Potter's house, and the whole team was assembled by the end of the week. He decided the best course of action would be to list all the charms needing removal with their counterspells then bring everyone to the house on a single day to take care of it all at once. That meant they could take apart any interwoven spells simultaneously, and it prevented any upsets in the delicate balance. There would be no chance for any spells to break down further in between visits.

After convening a meeting with the six of them, including himself and Ginny, he explained the situation. The only problem was when he briefed the team, he couldn't tell them where the house was. To his consternation, now that he was privy to the location, he became locked into the disintegrating spell. The first time he tried to provide the address, he needed Ginny's assistance removing the tongue-tie. He would need to have Potter tell them himself.

That brought up another question. Draco wondered how they could get an entire team of Curse-Breakers into the house. Even knowing the location, he hadn't been able to simply walk up to it and enter. When Potter had taken him, they'd used side-along Apparition. That would be impossible with five other people in tow. He wondered if they might be able to Apparate someplace in the vicinity of the house and have Potter bring them in one or two at a time from there. It seemed the most logical solution; he would ask Potter what he thought when they next saw one another.

On Monday, when Draco went to Potter's house to work, he took Ginny with him. Fortunately, now he'd been there, Draco didn't need to side-along. He did ask Potter to accompany them to make sure they had a comprehensive list of the necessary spells and to discuss the problem of convening the team for their removal. Potter agreed that Draco's solution seemed wisest, so that at least was settled.

When they arrived on the top step outside the front door, Draco wobbled a little, almost knocking into Ginny and Harry. As he righted himself, he caught an odd shadow out of the corner of his eye. Something to the side of the house had moved. Draco turned to Potter, who was unlocking the door.

"Are there any spells or curses on the exterior of the house?" he asked.

Potter frowned. "Not that I'm aware of. Why?"

"Thought I saw something similar to the spectre in the entry. Must have been an animal of some sort, though."

"I assume so. This neighbourhood is crawling with strays of various kinds, magical and Muggle." He let them inside.

They worked on the house for more than two hours, cataloging everything they needed to repair, remove, or reverse. When they were through, Potter invited them to stay for something to eat before returning to the Ministry. As usual, Ginny was quiet during their meal, content to let Draco carry the conversation. He kept it light, trying to draw her in with talk about the latest Quidditch scores and the recent in-game fight that had broken out between a pair of players who had apparently had a nasty break-up. Ginny only half-heartedly put in a word or two here and there. Puzzled, Draco concentrated on the conversation with Potter, and as usual found himself swept up in it to the exclusion of all else—Ginny and her odd behavior included.

When they were through, Ginny said she would take care of the report and getting everything organised so Draco could focus on researching the necessary counter-curses. He would have left too, but before he could, Potter stopped him.

"Do you have any idea why Ginny is acting so weird lately? She hardly talks to me when we're working on my house. I feel like I'm back to being twelve years old all over again. I'm half expecting something to come at me singing about the colour of my eyes."

Once again, Draco was frustrated at being in the middle of Ginny and Potter's relationship drama. Naturally, he could explain Ginny's behavior perfectly, but he chose not to do so. He valued her as an employee and a friend, and he didn't care to break her trust. "I don't know," he said with a shrug.

Potter raised his eyebrows. "You work with her. She hasn't said anything to you?"

Draco tilted his head, trying to appear casual. He decided a tiny bit of truth might lend credence to his plea of ignorance. "Not really. I know she's a bit nervous around you, but who isn't? I'm not sure the world knows how to react to your return just yet."

To Draco's relief, Potter laughed. "Other than the newly minted Aurors, you mean. They seem to think it's their aim in life to make things hell for me."

"Right. Well, they're merely taking over where I left off, you see," Draco replied.

Potter grinned, and it did marvellous—no, terribly inconvenient—things to Draco's stomach. He had a sudden flash of why Ginny always felt so off-kilter around Potter. If the swarm of pixies setting up camp in his chest was any indication, it was no wonder she couldn't put words together in front of him. He shook himself to get rid of the intrusive thoughts.

"Right, then. I should get back to work. I doubt we'll need to meet here again until we arrange a time to bring in the team, but if you want to check our progress you may stop by my office." He included a silent plea that Potter would choose to do so sooner rather than later.

"I'll do that." Potter hesitated. He lowered his eyes to the floor and said, "Would you like to join me—us, rather—for a drink after work? That is, if you don't have other plans."

Caught off-guard, Draco didn't answer immediately. If he hadn't known better, he might have thought Potter seemed a bit nervous himself, as though he were asking for a date. Draco collected himself in time to remember Potter was straight. "All right," he agreed. "I'll ask Ginny to come along as well."

"Er…why? I mean," Potter cleared his throat. "Does she usually accompany you after work?"

"Sometimes, yes," Draco said. "Maybe it will help her relax around you a little more."

"Ah. Good point. Fine, then. We'll see you at the Torchlight—say, around five-thirty?"

"Sounds like an excellent plan." Draco stepped outside and Apparated away, leaving Potter to whatever it was he still needed to do at the house.


	6. Chapter 6

For the next two weeks, Draco divided his attention between the case and the letters for Ginny. On the former, he and Ginny had devised what he thought was an excellent strategy. They had listed all of the known protective spells along with a few others that were commonly used and might have been set by various members of the Black family over the years. Draco hadn't detected anything unusual, but it wouldn't hurt to be prepared for something to be tripped upon removal of a more obvious spell.

For each curse, they had a chart of counter-spells that could be used. They developed a pattern for removal and the positions in which they wanted the team during each casting. Draco had been back to the house three more times in order to be certain that he had everything down to the last detail. If anything did go wrong, he risked the safety of his team. Fortunately, it turned out that two of the other three Weasleys working at the Ministry had also been secret-keepers, which meant he could count on Ron for back-up if something went awry. He provided the Aurors with details of when they planned to go in on the off chance something blew up in their faces—literally or figuratively.

During the planning stages, he frequently accompanied Potter and Ron—whom Draco had stopped referring to as simply _Weasley_ because it was too damn confusing—for drinks after work. Ginny joined them on occasion, but more often, it was only the three of them. It was an odd state of affairs; if anyone had told Draco he would be enjoying Ron's company, or that Ron would be enjoying his, there was a point in time when he'd have said they were mad. Yet there he was, talking and laughing with them as though they'd all been old school chums. Ron's years with the Aurors had sharpened his wits considerably, though he'd also managed to learn even more colourful language than Potter and Ginny, not to mention the stories he told. It was an altogether enjoyable way to pass the evenings.

In the meantime, Draco continued to send letters to Potter through Ginny. After the first one, Ginny showed Draco the owl she'd received in return. It was affectionate and sweet, and it made Draco's heart ache just a little knowing that Potter intended those words for Ginny. Draco was surprised to discover Potter was definitely the sort who enjoyed poetic courting; perhaps he'd misjudged how romantic Potter was. Should everything work itself out, it would be an interesting relationship dynamic given Ginny's lack of skill and interest where romance was concerned.

 _My Only—_

 _Ah, a secret admirer. I've had my share of those in the past. You'll forgive me for being wary. I take it you're someone I know, then? I'm sorry I make you timid. I promise I'll do my best to hide my eyes in future. Looking forwards to hearing from you again, though I'm desperately curious to meet you in person. By the way, I loved the haiku you sent me. Will you write another one?_

— _Harry_

Draco was reminded of the way Potter had looked when he invited him out for drinks after work—hesitant, looking anywhere but directly at Draco. It hadn't meant anything, of course, but he couldn't help imagining the way Potter might do the same thing around Ginny. It made his stomach hurt.

"So, can you help me write back to him?" Ginny asked.

He sighed. "Yes, yes. Fine." He pulled out a piece of parchment. "You don't want to string him along too far, though. Mystery is good, but you'll never get anywhere by keeping it up for long." On the parchment, he wrote.

 _Harry—_

 _Yes, we know one another. On second thought, don't hide your eyes—they're your best feature. Instead, how about you take off your glasses more often? I like you that way. Besides, I think the real problem is you're the famous hero, and there's not much you can do about that. I'll just have to work up my courage. Don't be sad if I'm too shy to say hello sometimes, though._

 _My heart beats faster_

 _Thinking of your words to me_

 _Reassure my soul_

— _Your Only_

Ginny grinned when she read it. "That's about right. He does have nice eyes, doesn't he?"

Draco had to resist wholeheartedly agreeing with her, especially after having seen them up close and personal numerous times at the Torchlight. "Whatever you say," he replied.

"I'll send it off to him now." She tapped the parchment, and it turned into a paper swan. She flicked her wand, causing it to rise into the air and fly away.

"Now we're done with that, can we get back to work? We have an appointment in an hour with a witch who discovered what she believes to be a cursed necklace in her attic. She thought it was a family heirloom and put it on, but ever since she claims she's been dodging falling objects, and she can't remove the necklace."

"Dodging falling objects?"

"It started off with people dumping things out their windows just as she walked past, so she thought it was merely poor timing on her part. But this morning, she had near misses with two pianos and an oddly-shaped metal thing."

Ginny stifled a giggle. "Oh, poor dear."

"Indeed. Shall we go over the possible curses?"

Potter's reply was swift.

 _My Only—_

 _No, not much I can do about my fame. I'm sorry. Would it help if we met somewhere I won't be so well-known? Because I very much want to meet you. I can't do much about my glasses, either, I'm afraid. I can't see at all without them, and I wouldn't want to miss out on gazing into your eyes when we finally meet. I suppose I could wear my contact lenses more often, though. Write back soon and tell me when I can finally see you face to face._

— _Harry_

"Well?" Ginny asked.

"I think you should arrange a date. You've done what you wanted—you got his attention. Now show him the real you."

"I don't know…"

"Trust me on this," he said firmly. "You are an intelligent, interesting woman, Ginny. Did you know you were the first person to work for me who didn't blindly obey me? You're much stronger than you're giving yourself credit for. If you're not afraid of me, then why be afraid of Potter?"

She took a deep breath. "Fine," she said. "Tell him I'll meet him at the Torchlight. But don't let on it's me, all right? Say he'll find out when he gets there."

"All right." Quickly, he wrote the note.

 _Dear Harry—_

 _Perhaps you're right and it's time for us to meet. What about the Torchlight? There usually aren't more than a few people who might know you in there. Shall we say, seven on Friday?_

 _We greet with a kiss_

 _and nervous words on our tongues._

 _Love gives us boldness._

— _Your Only_

Before the day was out, Harry had already replied.

 _My Only—_

 _That would be perfect. I leave on Saturday for three weeks away doing research, so I'm quite glad to meet you before then._

— _Harry_

So it was settled. Ginny finally had her date with Potter. Draco hoped—though he knew it was probably useless—that Ginny wouldn't fill him in on Monday. He thought he might stay late at work that night so he wouldn't have to go home alone and wonder what they were doing.

"There you go," Draco told Ginny when he showed her. "He wants to see you. Mission accomplished."

Instead of looking pleased, she looked panicked. "What? So soon? I can't do this!"

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. He was more than a little tired of her constant Potter-themed drama. For a grown woman, she was remarkably immature when it came to this situation. He couldn't for the life of him fathom why they needed to treat the situation as though all of them were badly-behaved adolescents. Not that he was doing much to further his own cause, but he had far better reason to keep his feelings private than Ginny had.

"Ginevra," he said, making sure to pour his annoyance into his tone, "do whatever you like. I have no investment in your personal life beyond that which you've chosen to drag me into. Meet him. Don't meet him. I, however, will be comfortably at home, not involving myself in any more of your angst."

She didn't hesitate when she shot back, "You could come with me."

"What?" He looked up at her. "You're joking. You don't need me."

"But I do!" she insisted. "I'll be so nervous. Please?"

He stared at her, the muscle in his jaw twitching. "No. You've gotten me into this as far as I'm willing to go. If you can't go through with it, then I'm done assisting you. Find someone else."

For a moment, Ginny looked as though she wanted to say something. At last she said, "Fine. I'll work it out on my own whether I should cancel our plans."

"I cannot be arsed with your decision. Do not include me from this point on. Am I making myself clear?"

Ginny swallowed audibly. "Perfectly," she replied.

"Good. Now, go home, hopefully to get ready for the date you are absolutely going to go on— _without my help_."

Once she'd flounced out of his office, Draco resisted the urge to set down his quill and bang his head repeatedly on his desk. He reasoned it wouldn't help him concentrate on his work if he caused himself a raging headache. He hated to admit how much he'd enjoyed helping her when it had been anonymous. Now she was going to make decisions on her own, and he wasn't to be part of it anymore. He reminded himself it was for the best and returned to completing his work so he could have a relaxing, trouble-free two days away from the Ministry.

* * *

In order to keep his mind off the strange situation he'd created, Draco decided to spend time with his own friends after work. He was fond of Ginny, really, but he'd had as much as he could take of her gushing about Harry and their soon-to-be romance. Their upcoming date had him in a melancholy mood, rendering him uninterested in joining Potter and Ron, either. Instead, he met Blaise and Theo after work for a bite to eat and to catch up with each other. Pansy took a rare break during her shift to join them for dinner.

Despite his promise to himself to let his friends distract him, Draco's heart wasn't in it. He was torn between wanting to crawl between his sheets and sleep until the ache in his chest went away and wanting to Incendio every everything in sight. He pushed his food around on his plate, barely listening to the chatter around him.

"Isn't that right, Draco darling?" Pansy was saying.

"Hm?" He looked up at her.

Pansy tsk'd. "I was telling the others you're working on that huge curse-breaking case that's been in the _Prophet_."

"Oh. Er, yes. We're nearly done, actually."

"The whole thing's been such a mystery. I hope they give us all the juicy details when it's over."

"I hope _I_ have all the details when it's over," Draco grouched. "It's been hell trying to figure out how to break protective charms gone awry when I can't even give the address to my team."

"And you've been working with Ginny Weasley, right?" Blaise asked. "That must be…interesting."

Draco glared at him. "Lay off, will you? I know you've always had a thing for her, but she's taken."

Pansy snickered. "Not by you, though."

He rolled his eyes. "Obviously."

"So who's she seeing?" Blaise pressed.

Draco sighed. "Potter. Of course." He chose not to explain that it wasn't official yet; it hardly mattered.

"Ah, yeah, that's right," Theo put in. "Heard he was back. Teaching at the University, no less!"

Draco shrugged. They meant well, but they didn't always quite understand. There was no real bitterness to Theo's tone; unlike Draco, he'd been able to see what his father was and chose to have no part in it. He'd never engaged in much Potter-bashing even in school, and when he did, it was usually only because Draco was doing it.

Pansy was studying Draco. She'd always been a bit too observant for Draco's liking, especially in recent years. "What?" he snapped at her.

"Don't get yourself all in a twist, Draco. I was just thinking that you look like something's bothering you."

"It's nothing," he said. "Just stress over this case."

She let it drop, and the conversation moved on to other things. Draco did his best to lose himself in useless discussions that didn't quite hold his interest. Eventually, Theo and Blaise begged off and left. Pansy, who had returned to her work as soon as she was through eating, saw Draco was alone and flounced into the seat across from him. She wasted no time before she attacked him full force.

"I know you didn't want to tell Blaise and Theo, but you're going to tell me whatever it is." She sat back in her seat with her arms crossed.

"It's really nothing, Pansy. Leave it alone."

She raised her eyebrows. "This has something to do with Ginny, but I can't quite work it out. You're definitely not interested in her, so…" She trailed off, looking thoughtful. "Ah. You're jealous." She smirked. "You did always obsess over Potter. I suppose it makes sense."

He glared at her. "It's just been too long since I've been with anyone. Ginny could've been with _anyone_ and I'd be feeling the same way."

Pansy shook her head. "You keep telling yourself that, Draco. One of these days, you might even start believing it." She frowned. "It's funny, though," she said.

"What's funny?"

"Well, Potter's been in here regularly since he's been back, but not often with Ginny. When I do see them together, they don't act like they're _together_." She held her hands up, palms touching. "When he's in here without her, he talks all the time about work and what not, but he absolutely never even mentions her."

Draco sighed. "It's not technically official. She's been trying to get his attention by sending him anonymous letters. They have a date here tomorrow night." He glowered at her. "You will do nothing to sabotage it. She's clearly smitten, and if it will make them happy, I don't want to stand in their way."

Pansy shrugged. "That's fine." She stood up. "I need to get back to work." She leaned in to give him a quick peck on the cheek and squeezed his hand.

"You really don't need to worry about me," he tried to reassure her.

She made to walk away but turned back. "You know, he never mentions Ginny when he's in here. But he certainly has an awful lot to say about _you_." She spun around and retreated to the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

Draco sighed and tried not to wish it meant something that Potter talked about him with Pansy. In truth, he was sure it was mostly Pansy-driven and only because Draco had gotten to know her husband. He rose from the table and stalked out of the pub, vowing to put the whole thing out of his mind.


	7. Chapter 7

He avoided the Torchlight all weekend. He had no interest in hearing Pansy gossip about Potter and Ginny's date should she have chosen to go through with it after all. Come to think of it, he wondered if he should owl in ill on Monday so he wouldn't have to hear Ginny gossip about it either, despite having told her he was not interested. He knew he wouldn't have to endure Potter saying anything to him, as he was away on his research trip. Not that Draco wanted to presume Ron would like his company whilst Potter was gone, but should they meet for drinks after work, Ron was a safer bet than the women. He had little to no interest in anything beyond Quidditch and the upcoming birth of his second child.

Knowing it would be irresponsible not to show up in his office, Draco decided against feigning sickness. He regretted it the moment Ginny arrived, glowing and looking like the Kneazle that ate the canary. He sighed, bracing himself for an earful of how her date with Potter had gone.

"Well, it worked, just as you said." She grinned.

"I take it you showed up after all, then? And you had a good time?" he asked, hoping to get it out of the way so they could move on to more professional—and thus safer—subjects.

"Quite," she said, grinning. "I've promised to owl him every day whilst he's gone."

"I hope you can manage that on your own," Draco replied. He knew he sounded irritable, but he wasn't interested in continuing their charade now that she had taken up the letter-writing business herself.

She shrugged. "I'm not sure I can write as well as you did."

He snorted. "Not judging by your poetry. I do hope you told him the truth—that you had help."

"No, but he'll figure it out when he reads what I send him." She laughed. "It doesn't matter anyway. I doubt I'll keep my promise to owl so often—you know how I am with letters. I'll just send him something telling him what I'm looking forwards to when he returns." She winked and retreated from Draco's office before he could respond.

Draco blew out his breath and leaned back in his desk chair. An idea struck him which he tried to banish, but it wouldn't let him go. Why she hadn't told Potter the truth was beyond him, but Ginny had inadvertently provided him with exactly what he needed. He could write to Potter, acting as though he were Ginny. She'd already as good as told him she wasn't going to owl Potter much herself, which left Draco the freedom to do it for her. Neither she nor Potter would ever be the wiser, and he could use their weeks apart to work this whole thing out of his system. In the meantime, he could always ask Pansy to set him up with someone else. Perhaps her husband knew some nice Muggle men who wouldn't be offended by his ugly tattoo.

* * *

The freedom in writing as Ginny was bliss. He could say whatever he wanted, and no-one would ever know those were his words. He started sending letters on a daily basis and waiting eagerly for the replies. He duplicated Ginny's writing as he'd done before and left off the signature; Harry would never know the difference. A pang of guilt niggled, but he banished it, telling himself he wasn't hurting anyone and perhaps might even be helping them.

At first, the letters were simple exchanges. Draco sent an initial letter telling Potter how much he missed his company.

 _Harry—_

 _I find myself missing you. I do wish you were here instead of there. Sometimes, when I can't sleep, I lie awake in bed and I imagine the sound of your voice. It surrounds me and fills me, and I feel so content, so complete. Only then can I finally close my eyes and drift off, but my dreams are still flooded with the warm tones._

 _The shimmering moon_

 _and the brilliant star-lit skies_

 _are dimmed by your love._

— _Your only_

After sending it, Draco panicked briefly. He'd sent the letter as though he were Ginny, which meant she was likely to receive Potter's replies. As soon as she received it she would know what he was doing. He berated himself for his foolishness and vowed not to send any more letters. The sooner he talked Pansy into finding him someone else with whom to cool his need for connection, the better.

Two mornings later, the owl that woke him up just before sunrise provided something which sorely tested his resolve. It was a letter addressed to My Only, and it had come directly to Draco's flat. At first he thought he should probably tell Ginny he had sent a letter on his own; after all, this was technically intended for her. In the end, he rationalised it by telling himself what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. He tore open the envelope and sat back down on the edge of the bed, eager to read what Potter had to say.

 _My Only—_

 _I wish I were there with you, too. The first part of my trip has been attending a conference on wandmaking in the Middle Ages. It's dreadfully boring. At least I have your words to keep me company. I would rather have you here than thirty old men._

— _Harry_

The last part caught Draco by surprise, and he laughed out loud. The owl, still waiting patiently on the window sill, hooted indignantly and ruffled its feathers. Draco glanced over, still chuckling.

"Hang on, friend. I'll give you both a treat and a letter to return with."

He rose from the bed and rummaged in his desk for supplies then sat down to write.

 _Dear Harry—_

 _I am truly sorry about the miserable old men with whom you've been forced to share space. Perhaps imagining them in just their pants will suffice to take your mind off the dull lectures. Do write back and tell me more about your adventures._

— _Your Only_

The next reply came to Draco's office. He was relieved to have already sent Ginny to take care of filing her report on an incident on the Tube the previous afternoon. Potter's reply had his face flaming and his stomach in knots, despite knowing Potter wasn't truly writing to him.

 _My Only—_

 _I'd rather picture you in just your pants. I'm leaving Amsterdam for Beijing this afternoon. Should you reply to this letter, don't worry if I can't answer right away due to the time difference and portkey lag. I'll write back as soon as I can._

— _Harry_

Draco waited until he was home to respond. He was afraid someone would catch him at it, and he didn't want to take the risk given how he wanted to reply to Potter's—no, _Harry's_ —suggestive letter. The quill shook in his hand, and he had to take several breaths before he could write.

 _Dearest Harry—_

 _I'm certain you could easily imagine me in just my pants. I shall be doing the same with you, of course. I suggest you wait until you're quite alone to do so. Unlike you, I possess enough self-control to wait until I am not at work._

— _Your Only_

 _My Only—_

 _Perhaps unlike you, I have the self-control to keep my thoughts well enough hidden at work. I've taken your advice, though, and waited until I'm in the privacy of the Muggle hotel where I'm staying. I can't help thinking about how good it will be to see you when I return, provided you're still willing to talk face to face. Some of us attended the symphony tonight, and there was a piece on the programme that reminded me of you. It's been a long time since I've seen a Wizarding performance. I'd forgotten how magic enhances the music of love._

— _Harry_

 _Harry, my love—_

 _I wish I were there to hear was it about the piece that reminded you of me?_

— _Your Only_

 _My Only—_

 _Something in the way the music was both beautiful and sad, dark yet ending on a note of triumph. When I return, I'll find a Muggle device called a CD player for you, and you can listen to the music for yourself. It makes me want to stop holding myself back when I'm with you._

— _Harry_

 _Sweet Harry—_

 _That sounds exquisite. When I think about seeing you again, every part of me burns with the heat of a thousand fiendfires. You are like cool water, washing over me. I long for you to hold me and bring me the relief we both crave._

 _Your mouth on my flesh_

 _and your arms holding me close_

 _make my heart feel free._

 _Loving embraces—_

 _fleeting moments that feel like_

 _A wild eternity._

— _Your Only_

 _My Only—_

 _Gods, what you do to me. I read that, and I couldn't help the way I reacted to it. I hope that doesn't make you feel uncomfortable. It's been too long, I think, since I've had that connection with anyone. I went for a walk to clear my mind, but it didn't help. So I wrote you a letter instead, which also didn't help. I'll need to take care of it as soon as I send this._

— _Harry_

 _Harry—_

 _No, I don't feel uncomfortable. I want you just as much. You said that magic enhances the music of love. I think it must be more than that. It's as though something bigger has taken hold in my soul, and it swells and swells until I am utterly full of it. It spills over and I am left breathless but a little empty, too, because I want us to know that joy together._

 _I smell sandalwood;_

 _I press my nose to your hair._

 _I want to taste you._

— _Your Only_

 _My Only—_

 _That sounds so damn good. I'm imagining the way your tongue would feel on me…on my lips, my nipples, my cock. Is that too forward? If I can't have you here with me, and I can't be there with you, then at least we can share this._

— _Harry_

 _Harry—_

 _Not too forward. I'm breathless thinking about it. You are fortunate I wasn't at my desk when I opened the letter. If loving you in person is even half as good as what's in my mind, we may have a most difficult time leaving the bedroom long enough to work. I, at least, need to keep my employment._

 _Hot breath on my neck_

 _Your body writhes against mine_

 _I'm gasping for air._

 _Feverish kisses_

 _melt everything on contact._

 _The breeze cools our skin._

— _Your Only_

 _My Only—_

 _Just reading that has me on the edge. Remaining in bed with you sounds like the best plan I've heard in a while. Far more interesting than some of what I'm currently researching. We should take some time away when I return. In the meanwhile, you could tell me what you plan to do with me whilst avoiding our jobs._

— _Harry_

Over the course of the next two weeks, they continued to exchange letters. Sometimes light-hearted and playful, sometimes sensual and dark, Draco always looked forward to the soft tap of the owl's beak at daybreak, wondering what each letter would bring. Harry had begun including small tokens with each letter, rare gifts he procured on his travels. In his guilt, Draco set them aside in a small collection, uncertain what to do with them. He couldn't bring himself to use them, but he couldn't give them to Ginny, either—that would mean admitting what he was doing.

By this point, Draco didn't even care that their letters were becoming increasingly sensual. He could barely finish a letter without being aroused beyond the point of thinking clearly. He couldn't have stopped writing if his very life depended on it. While he mostly kept his notes to poetic references, Harry's replies grew much more vividly erotic. Each one was steamier than the previous. By the time Draco received the one in which Potter described the way he wanted to take him from behind with his hot mouth on Draco's neck and his hand stroking until Draco came, Draco knew he was absolutely gone. Instead of purging himself of his irrational crush, he'd only stoked the fire.

He re-read the letter until he was aching to the point of nearly coming in his pants then locked himself in the bath. He tried to convince himself a shower would calm him down, but instead, he took the opportunity to grip his cock with one hand while fingering himself with the other until he was grunting with a combination of relief and self-loathing. When he had painted the walls of the shower with his release, he sank down and buried his head in his arms. The water could wash away the physical evidence, but it couldn't cleanse him of the shame weighing heavily on his soul.

* * *

Somehow, Draco managed to work in between reading the letters. Unable to face Ginny properly, especially after a few of the more recent letters, he set her tasks that kept her out of his office for the better part of the day. He took different junior members of his team when called to take care of a situation and passed it off as an opportunity for more thorough training. He even managed to suffer through two evenings alone with Ron, who wasn't as unpleasant as Draco had expected. Even Draco had to admit the photographs of his older child were charming enough to keep his mind off his own troubles.

Ginny, for the most part, seemed content to do her job. She didn't press until the third week, at which point she appeared in his office first thing one morning, a thick file in hand.

"Brought you this. I'm done duplicating the plan for every member of the team we're taking to Grimm—mmph!" She stamped her foot in consternation. Draco calmly loosed her tongue, and as soon as her mouth was free, she said, "Damn it! Sorry, and thank you."

Draco waved his hand dismissively. "You're welcome." He picked up the file and began to thumb through it, waiting for her to leave.

For a few seconds, she hovered, and then she stepped in and closed the door. "Are you all right?"

He looked up. "Yes, of course." He used the file to hide the tremor in his hand.

"Right. Because you seem…I don't know. Off, I suppose. You've been a bit snappish this week." She frowned. "And last week, too, and the week before. Care to explain?"

"Not really."

She moved farther into the room and pulled out a chair. "You helped me, so it's only fair if I do the same. Is it this case? I know we have to be ready as soon as Harry's back. You don't have to take this all on yourself. I can help, you know."

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I know. This isn't your problem. Don't trouble yourself."

"If you change your mind, you know where to find me." Sighing, she stood up. With one last worried glance, she retreated from his office.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Thank you all for the lovely reviews. I'm glad you're all enjoying the story. I'm pleased that so many of you have figured out what's going on (even if Draco hasn't).

* * *

Harry returned from his trip the following week. Draco avoided him for the first couple of days, only knowing of his return through Ginny. True to his word to her, he kept all conversation away from discussing her woes—or triumphs—over the relationship Draco had helped create. Since Harry didn't come to his office and Draco didn't seek him out, Draco could only assume from Ginny's relaxed posture that Harry had made good on the sensual promises he'd offered. It was a monumental task not thinking about how those were promises Harry had made to Draco—even if he didn't know it.

He couldn't avoid Harry forever, though. They still had a house to repair, and he would eventually have to face the repercussions of his duplicity. Now that Harry had returned and they were through with the final plans for his house, Draco drafted a memo to his immediate supervisor asking permission to complete the assignment. As soon as he was given the word, he would send another memo to Harry, no matter how reluctant he was to do so.

Just as he was folding the parchment and sending it on its way, there was a knock on his door. It opened slowly, and Harry peered in. Draco swallowed a sigh that was halfway between anxiety and pleasure at the sight. Harry looked marvellous—the trip had done him some good. His already golden skin was a shade darker, and he looked relaxed and happy. Draco's quill hand trembled, and he rested it on his desk to stop the motion.

"Hello," Harry said, but his soft smile faded when Draco didn't return the warm greeting. "Erm, is everything all right?"

Draco drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yes. My apologies. What can I assist you with?"

Harry's eyes crinkled, and the corner of his mouth lifted. "So formal today. You hadn't been round to see me since I returned, and I wondered how my house was coming on."

"I've just sent a memo to my supervisor, and we should be able to begin soon. I shall let you know." Unable to bear more conversation lest he give something away, Draco turned his gaze to the blank parchment in front of him.

"Ah, I see."

When Harry didn't move from his spot, Draco looked up again. "Was there something else?"

"Well…er…yes, as a matter of fact." Harry paused, and a troubled frown crossed his face. "Have you, erm, been avoiding me?"

Draco didn't know how to answer, so to buy himself a few minutes, he replied, "Pardon?"

"I seem somewhere to have put my foot in it or something," Harry said. Quickly, he added, "Because if I've done something to offend you, I'm sorry. I know we don't have a good history, but I thought we were doing well so far. Especially since…" It was hard to tell, but Harry's cheeks seemed to have gone slightly pink, and he didn't finish his sentence.

It took every ounce of Draco's strength not to break and tell Harry the truth. His heart ached, and he wished he could confess to the whole thing. It would have done no good, however—Harry was unavailable, and the best Draco could hope for was to continue the friendship they'd begun to build before Harry's trip. It pained Draco to know it would never be more. He sat silently for a long time before he responded.

"No. It's nothing like that," he said at last. "I'm sorry too. It's been a difficult few days, and I'm reserving my energy for the work on your house." He attempted a reassuring smile. "As soon as we have permission, I'll notify you."

Harry nodded. "All right." He paused again. "I've, ah, missed your company. Did you—did you want to have a drink with us after work today?"

Draco's resolve was crumbling, but he held on. "I can't tonight. Perhaps after we finish your house."

"Okay. I'll leave you to it, then."

This time, Harry walked out, leaving Draco alone at his desk with his misery. He propped his cheek with his fist and breathed steadily, willing himself not to fall apart at his desk. Only the arrival of a set of afternoon assignments spared him from coming undone altogether.

* * *

Draco received a reply from his supervisor the next morning that he could go in whenever Harry was ready. With luck, they would be able to go to the house on Friday, remove the spells, and list the house by Monday. As promised, he sent a memo to Harry asking him to stop by his office. Just before lunch, Ginny arrived for the meeting arm in arm with Harry. It took everything in Draco not to react in any way other than to invite them to have a seat so they could go over the details. It turned out he'd been right about the timing; there wasn't anything else to do—Harry confirmed he had already repaired everything else in the place so it could be sold, including delivering all the remaining Dark artifacts to the Ministry as soon as he'd returned from his trip. Bringing in the Curse-Breakers was the last stage.

"We're ready to do this, yeah?" Harry asked.

"Ready as we'll ever be. We can't be sure we'll get everything until we show up there, but we'll do our best. The only barrier has been not being able to bring in the entire team. Ginny and I have outlined the strategy start to finish, and we should be able to take off all the old spells you showed me."

"Good. What time?"

"Let's say ten? That way I have time to brief the team before we go in."

Harry grinned. "This is such a relief. When even Hermione couldn't do enough research to find out how to get rid of everything, we knew it was bad." His smile faltered a little. "I can't thank you enough for all the trouble you've gone to for me."

Draco scoffed. "Not for you, Potter. It's my job." He instantly regretted his words; Harry looked—well, disappointed, in fact. "Oh, all right. Maybe it was a little bit for you." He tried to smile, but he was sure he didn't quite make it.

"Well, I'm certain you'll be glad to see the back of me once this is over." Harry sounded tense, as though he himself couldn't wait for that day.

Keeping his tone neutral-to-light, Draco replied, "It certainly has kept me occupied. I'm not sure what I'll do with myself all day." He swallowed thickly. Once this was over, he had no more reason to associate with Harry. And with Harry and Ginny cozily paired off, Draco also had no more reason to send him letters laced with innuendo. He contemplated taking on a few extra cases in order to fill the gap.

Harry merely nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow at ten. We'll meet here so I can give your team the Apparition coordinates, and once we're in the neighbourhood I'll follow your plan to take a few in at a time."

"Fair enough. See you then."

Harry turned to go. "When this is over, maybe…" he said.

"Hm?"

With a shake of his head, Harry replied, "Never mind. Tomorrow, then." He walked out of the office.

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It was a good thing he wouldn't see much of Harry when they were through. He'd be settling in at the University soon, and there wouldn't be the constant threat of his presence. Perhaps Draco would burn all the letters then to set himself free.

Then again, maybe he wouldn't.

* * *

Draco, Ginny, and the team of curse-breakers collected in Grimmauld Place. There didn't seem to be anything amiss, though Draco caught sight of the odd shadow around the corner of the neighbour's house again. He wondered what sort of animal it was and whether he needed to have someone from the Ministry investigate its presence. It was a relief when Harry appeared to begin bringing them up to the house.

Harry took them in pairs; the first ones disappeared between houses eleven and thirteen, followed be three more sets of people. At last Harry retrieved Draco and Ginny. When they set foot on the top step at the doorway, Draco drew in his breath. He was reminded again of why Harry was so anxious to be rid of the place.

Inside, they began working immediately. They broke through each layer of the protective charms patiently, the way a parent might unwind the tangled string on a child's pull-toy. By the time they were fifteen minutes in, everyone was concentrating intently on the task at hand.

It took three hours, but Draco was confident they'd gotten all the charms except the last remnants of the fidelius. He pulled Harry aside. "We need you for this," he said. We have to disentangle you from it. I don't believe it will come to this, but if it doesn't work, we may have to locate every person still living who has become secret-keeper."

"I understand." Harry placed himself inside a circle of curse-breakers. Draco saw him swallow heavily as they all trained their wands on him. It certainly took courage to let that many people surround him, wands out, whilst trusting they were there to do him no harm.

The curse-breakers used a complicated spell to make the threads of the charm visible. One by one, Draco cut through them. When the last one released, there was a faint, high-pitched ringing. It lasted for fifteen seconds before dying out into nothing. The whole house was silent. Draco breathed a sigh of relief. They'd done it.

"Congratulations," Draco said to Harry. "Your house is no longer unplot—"

Before he could finish, the wall just above Draco's head suddenly exploded, raining wood, plaster, and paint over him. "What the hell?"

The others were shouting. Six burly men in black, hooded robes wearing masks that covered their faces had appeared, surrounding the team. There were shouts, and Draco lost track of what was happening as he tried to defend both himself and his team.

"It's Potter we want," one of them growled. "The rest of you won't get hurt if you stay out of our way."

 _No_ , Draco thought. _Not Harry_. He aimed his wand and tried to stun them. "Harry!" He shouted. "Get out and get help!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Harry ducking around a corner. A moment later, a huge, silvery stag dashed off. Draco turned back to the attackers and resumed his battle.

Without warning, Draco was hurled into the air and dashed against the wall behind him. Something flew at him, catching him in the chest. He crashed to the floor and heard a sickening snap. He was sure he'd broken his leg. Whatever had hit him had knocked the wind out of him, and he was finding it hard to breathe.

He barely registered when the Aurors showed up. All around him, spells were flying. It seemed like an eternity, but it was probably only about ten minutes until the Aurors finally had everything under control. Draco wondered what had happened to Harry. He closed his eyes; he could feel himself losing consciousness and concentrated on staying aware.

He felt a firm hand on his shoulder and slight pressure to his neck, which he tried to resist. Someone said, "He's alive, but he's hurt pretty badly." Draco cracked his eyelids to see Ron crouched in front of him.

Draco coughed, and it sounded wet even to his own ears. He tried to draw in a breath but choked. "Please…"

"Shhh," Ron said. "We're getting help."

"Ginny—" Draco struggled to sit up.

"Everyone else is fine," Ron assured him. "Some injuries, but no one's dead."

"Harry?" he whispered.

"Stunned, but he had presence of mind to toss his wand away first."

"Stupid…"

"No, very smart, actually, under the circumstances."

"Tell him—tell him I'm sorry."

"Tell him yourself, you prat. You're not dying." Ron's words were confident, but there was an unmistakable shake in his voice.

"Okay," Draco murmured just as he was swallowed up by darkness.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Second to last chapter. Almost there!

* * *

When Draco woke, he immediately wished he hadn't. He groaned. Everything hurt. His leg and his chest were wrapped, but it was more than that. Someone had obviously given him Skele-Gro, and it was working. Unfortunately, they hadn't bothered to give him anything for the pain. He shut his eyes and turned his face into the pillow as best he could.

He felt something warm on his hand and dared to open his eyes just a little. Someone was holding his hand, brushing it lightly with a thumb. He opened his eyes the rest of the way and followed the arm upward to see who was sitting there.

"Harry?"

"I'm here."

Draco closed his eyes and tried to relax into the bed. The events of the previous few days came flooding back. There were a few holes, though, such as who had attacked Harry.

"What happened?" he managed to ask.

"You took all the protections off my house. That bastard Yaxley—the one who was never caught—came after me. Apparently he was too stupid to know that first of all, I don't actually live there, and second, I don't have what he was looking for in my possession anyway."

"What was he after?"

"You don't know?" Harry sounded surprised.

It hit Draco with full force. "The elder wand," he said.

"Of course. What he doesn't know, though, is that part of my work was finding out whether something like that could be disabled. It can't be broken or otherwise damaged, but I've been researching whether its magic might be separated from the wizard who possesses it."

"Can it be done?"

"I believe so, but as I said, I don't have it. I returned it to where I felt it belongs."

Draco frowned, mildly confused. He would need to ask what Harry meant, but not until he was well enough to understand the answer. For now, he had a more pressing concern. "How did you keep Yaxley from simply disarming you and acquiring it?"

"Tossed my wand away. If I was already unarmed, he couldn't get it. Killing me wouldn't have made him its master, as discerned by Dumbledore and proved by Voldemort."

Relief washed over Draco. So that was what Ron had meant by it being a smart thing to do. Something seemed wrong about any other wizard being master of that particular wand. Harry would have been dead, but the wand would have died with him. Harry's interest in wandlore now made much more sense. The current situation raised a whole host of new questions, however they could wait. Draco relaxed back against the pillow.

"What's going to happen to Yaxley?" he asked.

"Fortunately, he and his men aren't going anywhere for a very long time. They're in Azkaban." Harry smiled, and it was reassuring.

The good feeling Draco had ebbed as he remembered there was still one thing Harry didn't know. "I need to tell you something." He tried to shift so he could look at Harry better, but it was too painful. He winced.

"There's plenty of time for that," Harry told him, "after you've had the chance to recover."

"No. I need to tell you now." Draco knew the longer he waited the less likely it would be that he'd be able to confess.

"All right." Harry reached out with his other hand and kept Draco's clasped firmly between his own.

"It's about the letters," Draco began.

"Letters?"

"The ones from Ginny. The ones she used to get you to fall for her."

"Wait—what? What letters from Ginny?"

Draco ignored Harry's confusion and forged ahead. "She didn't write them. I…I did."

"You've lost me. What are you talking about?" Harry shook his head, his brow creased.

"The ones she—I mean I—wrote to you whilst you were gone on your trip. The ones where I promised you all the things she would do with you when you returned." His face was hot as he recalled the intimate content of the correspondence. "It started with my helping her write to you because she was too shy to ask you for a proper date. After you were together, she told me she'd said she would write you every day but that she wasn't really going to do it. So…" He cleared his throat. "I did it for her."

He waited for Harry's rage, but it never came. Instead, Harry let go of his hand, leaned back and stared at him. "I don't understand. You think Ginny and I—you wrote those letters for _her_? So I would fall in love with _her_?"

Draco nodded miserably. "That's how it began, yes. Only she didn't know I kept going. I never said anything. I was going to tell you before, but it never seemed to be the right time, and then we were so busy fixing your house…" He trailed off. He didn't want to admit he'd meant every word he'd written when he could see how disappointed Harry was.

Harry just sat there, his mouth open. "Oh," he said at last. "Oh, my god. You mean you didn't intend—You didn't want—" He was shaking, and Draco was certain he was at last angry. Harry stammered, "I-I have to go."

He got up and almost ran from the room, leaving Draco alone, the pain of his shattered heart overtaking the pain of his shattered ribs.

* * *

Harry didn't visit him again whilst he was at St. Mungo's, and that was fine with Draco. He didn't want to face any more of Harry's anger and disappointment. He'd seemed so hurt and confused when Draco confessed, and Draco didn't think he could take another conversation about it. It didn't matter anyway; he'd known all along their former animosity and his status as an ex-Death Eater would have come between them at some point even if Harry hadn't been upset about the lies. Fortunately, Harry and Ginny were perfectly content with each other, and they didn't need anything more from him.

After he was released, he went to see Pansy to let him know he was out. She'd been in to see him as often as she could, given her busy schedule. The minute he stepped through the door, she rushed out to greet him with a fierce embrace that both warmed him and left him a bit winded. She dragged him over to a booth and sat down with him.

"You look much better," she commented. "Your heroics were all over the _Prophet_. I can't believe it was Harry Potter's house!" After a small pause, she said, "And how did things go with Harry himself?"

He scowled. "No idea what you're talking about."

She huffed. "Don't give me that. Your interest in him was more than the house. I haven't forgotten our last conversation."

Draco sighed. "Then I think you probably already know. How many times have we been in here in the last month?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that it's my fault he's with Ginny, and I've got no chance whatsoever anyway. He's _straight_ , Pansy. Classic case of unrequited gay attraction."

"Did you ever bother to tell him how you feel?"

"More or less." Draco slouched in his chair and refused to meet her gaze. "Probably closer to less."

He explained the situation, leaving out a few of the details, such as the erotic content of the letters he'd been receiving in return. They were meant for Ginny, regardless of who the owl delivered them to, and he wasn't going to add reading her sex mail to his list of Stupid Things Draco's Done This Summer. When he was finished, he raised his eyes just enough to peer at Pansy.

She sighed. "You really are an idiot. You know that, right?"

He glared at her. "What are you talking about?"

"Are you so sure it's Ginny he's been interested in?"

"Of course it is. I see how they look at each other."

"Darling, you've been in here most nights with them, yet you still can't see it. Ginevra Weasley would have made a horrible Slytherin."

"Make some sense, Pansy."

She huffed and gave a dramatic roll of her eyes. "She wouldn't have been nearly sly enough to accomplish what she was attempting if it weren't for your stubborn lack of self-confidence when it comes to Potter. The answer's in front of you, and you're refusing to do anything about it."

"What answer is that?"

"Tell him how you feel," she said. "Try going for more this time instead of less." Her voice was dry.

"I can't do that! It won't change anything."

"Then there's nothing I can help you with, darling. You're going to have to sort this one out on your own. I will tell you this, though. You're not the only one who was obsessed back then. Don't underestimate yourself." She stood up from the table.

Draco stood too, undecided whether he felt better or worse for having confided in Pansy. He supposed it was a bit of both. He hugged her again, and she gave his cheek an affectionate pat before turning around and walking into the back.

* * *

It took another three days before Draco was able to return to work. He couldn't do anything but file parchments yet, but he was glad to be well enough for that at least. He needed something to fill his days instead of dwelling on the fact that he'd lost Harry for good, even as a friend.

When he'd been sitting at his desk for thirty minutes staring at the same piece of parchment, he decided to take a break. As he was rising from his desk, Ginny appeared in the doorway. She had a cup of tea and a small bouquet of yellow flowers in her hands.

"Welcome back," she said, setting the tea and flowers on his desk and embracing him gently. "It's good to see you." When he didn't return her smile, she said, "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing. We've been working together for months now, and I know exactly when you're not acting like yourself." She hummed. "Which if I'm honest, has been for approximately the last month."

He huffed. "It's nothing you can do anything about. You've already got what you want, and so does Ha—Potter. Now that he's free from his cursed house, you can go buy a cosy little cottage somewhere and have lots of cute ginger babies."

Ginny opened her mouth and promptly shut it again. She stood there, her lips pursed, for all of three seconds before she lit into Draco. "Is that what you think? Let me tell you something. I assumed you would see right through me from the beginning, but you never did catch on to what a terrible actress I am. When it comes to work, you're brilliant—no one could deny that. But when it's something for yourself? You have no fucking idea."

He snarled at her coarse language to cover for his confusion. "Watch your tone, Ginevra."

She put her hands on her hips. "Please. You've been dealing with my mouth since I began working here. Don't change the subject. I cannot believe you bought everything I told you and didn't even once question it."

"I honestly don't—" he started, backing away from her.

Ginny's eyes blazed. "This was never about _me_ , you idiot. He's been obsessed with you for as long as I can remember. When I owled him about my new job, he didn't even wait until he came home to start asking about you. I saw how you looked at him at the party and how he lit up around you. I started out just trying to make you jealous so it would motivate your arse to fucking _do something_ about it, but it backfired when you helped me write those damn letters. Once you'd started, I did everything I could to get you to figure it out on your own. Didn't you ever wonder, even for five seconds, why I kept leaving the two of you alone? Why I never stayed after working in Grimmauld Place? Why I insisted on keeping it all anonymous? Why I fucking tried to get you to come with me on our 'date'?"

"I—yes," he admitted. "But you said it was nerves and the anonymity made it romantic and mysterious."

"And you believed that? Not to mention, you never bothered asking why he was sending letters to _you_ and not to _me_ the whole time he was away."

"You knew about that? But I—"

She rolled her eyes. "Who do you think made sure you got them?"

"I just assumed—"

"I knew you were writing to him on your own. He owled me about the letters and asked what to do. I told him to write back, and eventually whoever-it-was would be honest. I thought for sure after he returned you'd have developed a spine and told him how you feel in person. Apparently, I was mistaken about that."

"But the pair of you—"

She threw up her hands. "We've never been together at all—not for dates, not for sex, not for anything. It's _you_ he wants, not me." She was breathing hard by this point, and she paused to suck air into her lungs. When she continued, Draco was forcibly reminded of watching her mother kill his aunt all those years ago. "Now. You get your arse over to his flat and _you make this right_ , Malfoy, or so help me I will make you wish those Death Eater scum had taken you out." She marched to the door and hauled it open. Glancing back over her shoulder, she snarled, "And _don't_ call me Ginevra." She stalked out of his office, slamming the door behind her and leaving Draco staring at the place where she'd been standing.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Last chapter. Thank you all for sticking with this! I hope you enjoy the ending.

 **Content warnings:** Sex

* * *

Draco paced. He was trying to work up the courage to Apparate to Harry's flat and apologise, but every time he was sure he was ready, he changed his mind. He'd spent so much time hiding behind Ginny that he wasn't sure how to begin. Just when he'd taken another deep breath and prepared himself to go, there was a knock on his door. The surprise set his heart beating guiltily; he was sure either Ginny or Pansy had shown up to hex him for his stalling.

Hesitantly, he opened the door, remaining partially behind it so as to protect himself. When he poked his head around, he saw it wasn't either of the women.

"Hi," Harry said.

"Er, hello," Draco replied.

"Can I come in?"

Draco opened the door wider and gestured for Harry to enter. He had to swallow firmly against the sudden tension in his throat. As usual, Harry looked fantastic, and it was all Draco could do to stop himself from apologising by launching himself at Harry's lips.

It appeared Harry had no such hesitation. The moment the door was shut, he grabbed Draco and yanked him close. There was absolutely nothing shy or gentle about the kiss. It was heated and aggressive and a little angry. Draco gave himself over to it and kissed back with everything he had.

Eventually, Harry broke away and put a hand on Draco's chest to keep him back. He was breathing heavily, and there was a glint in his green eyes.

"I wanted it to be you," he said after a long pause.

"What?"

Harry dropped his hand and sighed. "I knew those letters weren't from Ginny, of course." He glared at Draco. "She and I met up the night before I left. I'd been expecting to meet the person behind the love poetry, and I was very much surprised to see Ginny instead. She couldn't tell me who was writing the letters, but she confirmed she hadn't written them. When they continued after I left, she told me to write back. I could kill you for making her take an Unbreakable Vow, you know."

"I—what? I didn't make her take an Unbreakable Vow, you prat! I know better than that." Draco's jaw dropped. The sneaky little— _Terrible actress my arse_.

"You didn't?" Harry sounded genuinely puzzled.

"Of course not." He scowled. "If I had, she would be dead, seeing as she clearly told you I wrote them so you could show up at my flat and harass me about it."

"Er…true." Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "I just assumed you'd released her from it."

"You and I both know that's not possible, though I'm flattered you think so highly of my skills that I could invent a new method of dissolving an Unbreakable Vow. Aside from that, apparently I'm not the only one who fell for her evil schemes. She's the one who asked me to send the letters in the first place, claiming she can't write worth a damn."

Harry laughed. "She's right. Have you seen her poetry? It's awful. The fresh pickled toad wasn't the worst of it. I knew from the beginning she wasn't behind it, nor would I ever have suspected her."

"Why not?" Draco demanded. "She seemed quite happy to see you."

"First of all, the lack of dreadful verse. Second, she's been secretly seeing Oliver Wood and hasn't told anyone else about him yet because he's rather famous himself. Third, and most importantly, she's fully aware that I'm _gay_. Surely even a snooty bastard like you knows what that means?"

"You-you are?"

"I just snogged the hell out of you, and you're still wondering?" Harry's eyebrows went up.

"I—no. Just making sure." He scowled. "Besides, bisexual is a thing."

Harry laughed. "Yes, it is, but my poor attempts at courting women were woefully lacking for a very good reason." A wicked, predatory grin spread over his face. "I'm certain I could think of something else that would convince you if you like."

Draco's first thought was, _Yes, please_. His second thought was…"Wait a moment. You said you wanted it to be me. What did you mean?"

Harry's smile faded. "Only that when Ginny told me she was working with you, my old need to know everything you were doing came back full-force. And when I saw you at the party, it took everything I had to keep from staring at you all night. Gods, Draco, do you have any idea how fucking good you look _all the time_? And when you opened your snotty mouth and you were pushy and snide and everything I remembered about you only without the loathing and the hexes, I suddenly wanted to know the real you. I wanted to know the man who was brilliant enough to rid my house of all those spells but who could also hold his own against me. When those letters started arriving, so sensual and so erotic but also sharp and full of wit, I fell hard for the person writing them. I kept hoping—imagining you were sending them." Harry touched his cheek.

When Draco looked up to meet Harry's eyes, he was stunned to see not only lust but love written in his expression. The combination made him lightheaded. He paused, temporarily immobile. He found his voice and blurted, "I love you." He sucked in his breath. "I mean—that is—"

Harry shut him up with a kiss that went on for a very long time and left Draco warm from head to toe with desire and longing. They pressed together, and Draco felt their mutual need. He gasped, and Harry backed off.

Between light kisses, Harry answered Draco's declaration. "I love you too," he said. He leaned forwards grinding slowly against Draco and h'mming softly. "Gods, you feel good. Would you like me to tell you what I did whilst I read your letters?"

"Ah…" Draco's heart rate increased, and his breath caught in his throat. "Ah, yes."

Harry stepped closer, pressed his mouth to Draco's ear, and whispered, "I _wanked_. In every way I could think of, in every corner of that Muggle hotel suite, picturing everything I wanted to do with you." He slid a hand between them and cupped Draco, rubbing him through his trousers. "I fucked myself with my fingers and thought about what it would feel like if you buried yourself balls-deep inside me." He increased the pressure on Draco's erection, causing him to squirm and squeeze his eyes shut. "Then I wrapped my hand around my dick and imagined sliding inside your tight, hot hole. I made myself come, over and over, so hard I saw stars." Harry was panting a little. "Shall I go on?" His warm breath tickled Draco's skin.

The combination of the filthy words, Harry's hand on him, and his lack of a proper shag for far too long were all too much. When Draco opened his mouth to answer, all he could manage was a breathless grunt. His whole body shuddered as he came forcefully, arching into Harry's hand. He slumped against the door, gasping as he tried to regain equilibrium.

Surprised, Harry moved his hand and stepped back. "Shit…I'm sorry. I honestly didn't know you were so close to the edge."

Draco chuckled a little. "Neither did I. It's sort of been a while."

Relief passed over Harry's face, and he grinned. "Nice to see I have the same effect on you that you have on me."

He leaned in and kissed Draco softly. Tenderness soon gave way to exploration; Draco parted his lips to let Harry slide his tongue inside. He ran his hands up Harry's back, drawing him closer. It didn't even matter that he had come cooling in his pants. All he wanted was to touch and taste. There was no possible way he could ever get enough. It didn't take long before hot arousal bloomed again.

Harry kissed his way back up to Draco's ear and murmured, "Do you want me to continue where I left off earlier? I could tell you about—"

"No." Draco turned his head slightly to meet Harry's gaze.

"No?" Harry pulled back a little.

"No," Draco repeated and moved so he could whisper in Harry's ear. "It's my turn. I want to show you how much I want you." He flicked his tongue against the shell of Harry's ear.

"Fuck," Harry said softly.

"Yes." Then, "You do have the dirtiest mouth."

"Oh, I think I can put it to good use," Harry murmured against Draco's cheek. He slid his tongue along Draco's jaw and down his neck to his collarbone. He nibbled slightly, making Draco shiver.

Draco flipped them so it was Harry's back to the wall. Remembering the words Harry had used in his letter, Draco took the musings seriously. First he kissed Harry, long and sensual, putting out his tongue to lick across the seam of Harry's lips until he parted them. Draco lapped at him, flicking his tongue against Harry's and running it around inside his mouth to gather the taste. When he'd had his fill, he trailed his lips down Harry's jaw and neck, unbuttoning his shirt as he descended to the flat plane of his chest. When Draco reached his nipples, he took time to lavish attention on each until Harry bucked against him and moaned his name, tangling his fingers in Draco's hair.

Draco continued his downward path, pausing to lick into Harry's navel and make him squirm. At last he reached his destination, unfastening his trousers and dragging them down as he dropped to his knees. Once Harry's prick was free, Draco took him in hand, swiping a drop of precome and licking it from his thumb. He looked up to meet Harry's gaze.

"Let me suck you," he begged.

"Fuck, yes."

Without another word he took Harry into his mouth. His reward was a steady flow of nonsense syllables and breathy moans along with the desperate motion of someone who's been on the brink far too long. It took very little to pull Harry over the edge, crying out as he emptied himself. Draco continued his ministrations until the last of Harry's fully-body shudders died away and he rested back against the door, quiet and still, his chest rising and falling heavily and his fingers carding through Draco's hair.

Before he pulled back, Draco took a moment to nuzzle the juncture of Harry's hip, inhaling the scent of his sex and allowing it to fill his senses. He was partially hard again now, enough to feel good but not enough to need relief. He stood and leaned in for a series of gentle, exploratory kisses.

"Even better than I'd imagined," Harry said, running a finger down Draco's cheek.

Draco closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. "Mm."

Harry's hand wandered down until he slipped it between Draco's legs. "Did you want another—?" he asked.

"It's all right," Draco said. "We have time, and I don't believe I want to do this here." He kissed Harry again. "Might I interest you in moving to the bedroom?"

"Hm," Harry replied. "You might." He chuckled. "We both have some commitments to keep, after all."

"And what would those be?"

Leaning in, Harry murmured, "Oh, all the filthy, sexy, beautiful things we said in those letters, and everything I said when I made you come up against your door."

Draco withdrew and took Harry's hand then all but dragged him into the bedroom. Inside, he hesitated, and Harry tilted his head in question.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

"Yes," Draco answered. "Trying to decide if we do this slowly or if I let you strip me down and throw me on the bed."

Harry laughed, his eyes dancing. "How about a bit of both," he suggested.

He leaned in for a kiss, taking it from tender to scorching as he worked the buttons on Draco's shirt. They didn't move so fast as to tear clothing, but they made short work of all the fabric. It was a relief for Draco to be rid of his trousers and pants. When they were through, Harry gave Draco a wicked grin and with one swift movement hauled them both down onto the bed. He rolled onto his back, taking Draco with him to nestle between his legs.

"How do you want me?" Harry asked. He rotated his hips to indicate he was ready for something, whatever that might be. "Would you like to fuck me? Or ride me? Or—"

"Yes," Draco answered. "Yes to all of that and more. But let's start with…" He leaned in to whisper in Harry's ear, no longer ashamed of how much he wanted what Harry had offered.

He wasted no more time on conversation, leaning down to press kiss after kiss to Harry's lips until they were both oblivious to anything but each other. They wrapped themselves in one another, heat and pleasure building between them again until Draco's need was almost unbearable. He turned on his side, and Harry entered him from behind, an arm wrapped around him and a hand on his cock. When at last they were joined, Draco's whole body sang with the raw, fierce joy of the connection. He reached behind him to grip Harry's hair as he ground back against him.

Unable to hold on any longer, Draco cried out as he came all over Harry's hand. A desperate moment later, Harry gasped and shook against Draco's back, grunting as he let out the breath he'd held. Boneless and still shivering with their shared climax, they collapsed against each other, panting hard.

Harry pulled out and curled around Draco, holding him as their breathing slowly returned to normal and their muscles relaxed. He sighed, the sound full of contentment. Draco hummed softly and turned in Harry's arms. He had no way to explain the breadth and depth of what he was feeling. Instead he explored Harry's skin, running his fingers over every part of him. Harry did the same, and the light touch felt exactly right. He knew if he kept it up long enough they would both be ready to go again, but for the moment he was content with what they were doing. He chuckled as a thought occurred to him.

Harry stilled his hand. "What's so funny?"

"I was just thinking it's a good thing we don't have anywhere to be."

"Oh? Why's that?"

Draco offered Harry a devilish smile. " Because I promised you we could stay in bed all day."

"Hm. Then it's a very good thing indeed," Harry replied as he rolled over so he was on top.

Draco met Harry's gaze, reflecting on how glad he was to have taken so many chances in the previous few months for where they had led him. When Harry leaned down to kiss him, he gave himself over to it with his whole being. They had all the time in the world, and this was only the beginning. If anyone had asked him to put the moment into words, he never would have been able to—not even in a letter.


End file.
